Tethered
by SamiWammy
Summary: A Caryl fic : ) Get inside Daryl and Carol's heads as they struggle to figure out what they mean to each other. Rated M for language, scenes of abuse, violent imagery and adult situations! WARNING: ANGST and TENSION ahead!
1. Solace

Dying flames cast shadows on the tired faces of those seated around the fire. Haggard, hard, pale and hungry, the lot appeared startlingly similar to the mindless fiends from whom they fled. Alive, yet lifeless, each of them seemed to stare into the writhing heart of the fire; through it; beyond it; into an uncertain future.

_Not uncertain_, he thought to himself_... Terribly definite_.

He could drive himself crazy thinking about all of the fucking certainty this new world had brought with it.

_ Those things were out there; that was certain. No one was coming to help; that was certain. There is no cure, no answer... Sooner or later they would all end up in the ground or stumblin' across it like those disgusting, fuckin' things. There is no way out..._of all of these things, Daryl Dixon was certain. Painfully, horribly certain.

A bright flame snapped and hissed, stirring Daryl and pulling him from his dark thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the soreness in his back; _how long had he been leaning against that tree? _Staring at the damn fire and thinking... _Shit_. _What fuckin' good did all these deep thoughts do him_? _The fuck are we doin'? Sittin' around starin' at a fuckin' flame like a buncha damn moths?_

His arms had been crossed over his chest to keep the chill off and his hands had gone numb tucked under his arms. He stretched stiffly and could feel the anger that had settled into his tired limbs. Leaning forward, he rolled his shoulders and cracked the thick knuckles on each of his hands. He liked to believe some of the anger escaped as he heard the bones pop. His eyes narrowed and he began to take note of his companions.

Andrea was seated on a log beside Lori, her head resting on Lori's weak shoulder. A few strands of dirty blonde hair hung in the woman's face, concealing green eyes that Daryl knew must be seeing ghosts... _Her sister; Dale_... _You can't unsee that shit...ever_.

Lori was stock still, her thin fingers resting in her lap. _She ain't but a few shades away from bein' a ghost_ herself. Her big, dark eyes staring into nothing... her frame rigid; she did not want to disturb Andrea who had drifted off agasint her shoulder. Daryl was not sure how this woman would be able to look after a son, a husband and the baby she had growing in her belly. _There wasn't much left of her..._

T-Dog sat on the ground with his weary head in his hands and Carl had fallen asleep beside him. _Damn kid; a fuckin' liability is what he is. Never fuckin' listens; can't hardly turn around 'fore he's gone; gonna go and get himself killed if his momma don't wake the hell up._

He had begun to pace slowly in front of the dying fire, feeling the need to move, to release the angry static that was building, charging in his head. Rick and Shane were on watch and Glenn was in the house with Maggie, Beth and Herschel. _Fuckin' pussy... Gettin' special fuckin' treatment just because Maggie happened to look twice at him. Fine; let him creep into her bed while the rest of them made do in these damn, raggedy-ass tents._

His pacing quickened. He thrust his hands into his pockets wanting to get away. The more he paced, the angrier he became. He had to get away from the fire and all these damn, hopeless fools sittin' around making him itch. After a few moments of working up bits of earth with the toe of his boot, he tapped T-Dog on the arm. The tired man looked up at him, forcing his eyes open, "What's up man?" "I'm gonna' head down to the lake, don't go lettin' them sleep out here," he gestured towards Andrea and Lori. T-Dog nodded. "I'll put 'em in the tents." Daryl turned to leave and then called over his shoulder, "Carl too, the little asshole's like to up an' leave first time you blink." Another weary nod from T-Dog was all the answer that Daryl needed. He snorted and began his brisk walk to the lake.

He was almost at a run when he reached the water's edge. The lake was perfectly calm, still and black under the faint glow of a waning moon. Mist rose off of the glassy surface and seemed to creep over the grass, leaving everything covered in a dark sheen_. Eerie. _He almost laughed to himself_; what the fuck wasn't eerie these days_? He sank to the wet grass and looked out over the dark water. His hands could feel the wet earth and the chill clung to his bare arms, keeping him awake. Alone, near midnight, at the water's edge... any onlookers might have thought he was lonesome but he needed this. Needed the space, the water, the dark and the stillness, to reflect on the one thing his mind worked tirelessly to keep at bay... _Sophia_

It had been almost three weeks since Shane opened the barn, releasing the walkers that Herschel's crazy ass had been feedin'. Three weeks since they'd all had to watch as a terrible, hideous, pale, snarling Sophia stumbled out into the sun, shielding her face with a gray, rotted hand. His eyes were closed and he could feel himself resisting, backing away from these ugly thoughts. _No. Not again. I gotta' make my peace with this shit_. His fingers dug into the earth but he forced himself to picture her again. The gaping wound on her shoulder where the blood had dried black; where the walker must have got her... The sunken pits that were her eyes and her small frame shambling clumsily towards them. He could feel dirt under his fingernails but he had to keep going. _Can't keep fuckin' hidin' from this_. She was looking right at them, him and Carol, as she hissed and growled..._ like some demon come straight up outta hell. _He remembered the way Carol had felt in his arms as he kept her from running to her child; limp, defeated, destroyed. She was so weak; he thought he was gonna break her with one arm around her chest and the other clutching her waist. He remembered her frame being racked by sobs and it was like... _she was suffocatin',_ in his arms, _like_ _she was strugglin' to get the air she needed to scream...to cry..._

_ FUCK! _He finally had to press his sweaty palms into his eyes and force away the thought. When his they opened again he was almost surprised to find himself at the lake. Hadn't he just been kneeling in the red dirt, holding Carol while she screamed? Feeling the fight go out of her as a single bullet was buried in her daughter's skull? _That was nearly three weeks ago_... _You can't unsee that shit,_ he thought to himself as he knelt before the water. _I can't unsee it so I damn sure better learn to live with it. _He broke his reflection on the surface as he cupped dirty hands and brought cool water to his face. As the liquid dripped from his chin and was soaked up by the thirsty ground he began to feel some of the tension rising from his skin, like the mist from the lake. _At least he had made himself look at her, remember her this time. _He sighed and splashed more water onto his face wiping away some of the dirt and grime that had been there for too long. The chill in the air stung his wet skin and he inhaled sharply, feeling cold and alive at the edge of the lake. He sat with his legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees, and stared across the glassy surface of the water, temporarily hypnotized by the stillness. He began to imagine that he was completely alone; no walkers, no Rick, Shane, anyone... In this moment he was the only person, maybe the last person on earth with only the cold air in his lungs to remind him that he was alive. Then, in a silent instant, his meditation was fractured. On the periphery of his vision, maybe 50 yards down, he noticed a pale form advancing slowly towards the water. His blue eyes narrowed, struggling to cut through the darkness and capture the intruder. He consciously stilled his breathing and froze as he realized that the thin, milky white form belonged to a woman; to Carol. The chill seemed to invade his chest as he realized that she had not seen him. Maybe she needed her own quiet moment. Daryl did not want to disturb her and instead remained still, cloaked in darkness and the mist that continued to roll off of the lake. He watched as she knelt beside the water and hugged her skinny frame. Her head hung low and he knew that she was struggling to see, or to unsee her daughter and the terrible way she died As the moments crept past, the two survivors stared into the darkness and mourned; together, yet apart.


	2. Clean

**I intended to include this in the previous entry but **_**Tethered**_** is my very first attempt at fan fiction! I have always enjoyed creative fiction and writing poetry but never thought to branch out into this particular genre. However, I have become so wrapped up in The Walking Dead and Daryl and Carol in particular that I began seeking out fan fiction about the two of them and was inspired by many of the stories I have found on this great site! I hope that you enjoy my story and that everyone is geared up for the return of TWD on Sunday : )**

**Disclaimer****: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 2: Clean**

Daryl's blue eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dull, gray light that filtered in through the mesh windows of his tent. Cool morning air crept in through the open flap and Daryl shuddered. He couldn't remember how late it had been when he'd finally stumbled into his tent but he must have been dead tired to forget something like the flap...

_Whole lotta' good some damn flap would do me if one of those things really wanted in..._

He lay on his aching back, staring at the pale ceiling of the tent, and wondered how he could possibly get rid of the anger that was already clouding his brain; already starting to pound in his skull like a bad hangover. He'd woken with his right arm draped across his forehead and wrinkled his nose at his own smell.

_Christ...'bout time for a decent wash; damn animals gonna smell me comin' a mile away._

He forced himself to get up despite the protest from his stiff limbs and the promise of very cold water waiting for him at the lake. After taking a moment to stretch his arms and yawn at the ceiling, he began to scrounge through his meager belongings which were nestled in a corner of the tent. He grabbed a small rag along with one of his only remaining shirts and stepped out into the chilly, gray morning.

As he walked through the sleepy camp, he could hear the muffled sounds of the others as they began to stir in their tents. The sun was just beginning to peek over the distant hills and faint rays of rosy light were falling across the fields of the Greene farm.

Daryl strode past the blackened remains of last night's campfire and frowned. Some days, hell, most days, he felt just like that damn pile of soot and ash... burned out, broken, spent and useless. He could feel eyes on his back and turned to see Herschel seated on the steps of his porch.

_Crazy ol' man, _he thought_. Always watchin... with them beady little eyes of his... At least he's up, not sleepin' in like the rest of these good for nothin' bastards. _

He caught Herschel's eyes for a moment and gave an indifferent snort in place of any morning greetings, as he continued to hurry towards the lake. For an instant, he was unnerved by the idea of someone being awake who might see him washing up but the concern was quickly overpowered by fresh anger.

_Fuck Herschel_. He had made up his mind to get in that water and hell if some old man was going to stop him.

_Shit; it's the fuckin' end of the world and i'm worryin' about someone seein' my bare ass... Like we ain't all seen enough already..._

Thankfully, Herschel seemed preoccupied, staring into the distance at something Daryl couldn't see, and barely took note of the redneck. With his spare shirt draped over one shoulder and the rag hanging from his pocket Daryl continued towards the water.

An ancient willow tree beside the lake provided some semblance of privacy as Daryl prepared to undress. He hung the clean shirt on a low branch and pulled the rag from his back pocket before setting it on the soggy ground. After casting one last nervous glance around the camp, he pulled his dingy wife beater over his head and let it fall. He gritted his teeth as cool air pressed against his skin forcing him to tuck his hands under his arms. Already thoroughly chilled, he winced at the idea of wading into the cold lake but knew that he didn't have a choice.

_Quit bein' such a pussy and get this shit over with_, he told himself before fumbling with his zipper and then hooking his thumbs into the belt loops on his faded jeans. With a quick tug, he pulled them down to his knees before kicking them off completely. He wanted to cover himself but his hands were clamped under his arms for warmth. The fragile branches offered some privacy as he stood naked and shivering beneath the old tree. He shifted nervously from foot to foot before finally walking straight to the water's edge and wading in.

_Fuckin' Christ!_

The freezing water knocked the wind out of him as it reached his navel and his breath caught in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the cold and wade deeper into the lake. As the water crept higher, to his chest and then his neck, he began to adapt. He pried his stiff hands out from under his arms and stared at them. They seemed so pale, even ghostly beneath the water. He looked down at his body, at the labyrinth of scars that covered his chest and flat stomach.

_Nothin' like the cold light of day to make ya see how ugly ya are._

The scars varied in size and shape from thin white lines to jagged, angry tears across his skin. He slowly began to trace them beneath the water, trying to remember where each one had come from but there were too many... It wasn't a road he needed to be going down this early in the day so rather than stagnate in thoughts of a dark past, he took a deep breath and plunged below the water.

Completely submerged, Daryl used his powerful arms to propel himself forward, swimming further out into the lake. The cold began to subside as his muscles sprang into action. With strong legs kicking behind him, he made his way to the center of the lake. He could feel the water flowing gently through his shaggy hair and sliding over his broad shoulders with each stroke and it felt incredible, like everything was being washed away... The stress, the anger, the cold... all seemed to release their grip on him as continued to glide through the water. Finally, chest burning, he burst through the surface and greedily sucked air into his strained lungs.

With his feet planted firmly on the muddy bottom, he stood panting; his hands behind his head. The cool air stung in his chest as he opened his eyes and stared at the sun rising in the distance. It's light seemed to catch every droplet of water that fell from the ends of his hair and the scruff on his chin. The shining beads dripped silently from his face, rolling quickly down his neck before returning to the lake once more. He ran thick fingers through his damp hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Tiny droplets lingered on his lashes and he struggled to blink them away.

_Damn sure feels good to be in the water._

After scrubbing himself as best he could, Daryl stood in the lake feeling very nearly clean, at least the cleanest he'd felt since the CDC. The sun was rising higher and he knew he couldn't linger long unless he wanted the whole damn camp to be up and about when he came out of the water stark naked. But he just didn't want it to end. He liked feeling as though he had been cleansed somehow; maybe he had scrubbed away more than just dirt... He liked the easy sound of the water lapping against his skin watching as his fingertips and toes began to resemble pale prunes. Daryl wasn't thinking about Sophia, or Merle or geeks... About the nightmare that was his life or the feelings of uselessness that often festered in him... He only thought of the water.

Sounds from the camp drifted across the lake and stirred him from his reverie. The others were up.

_SHIT!_

He cursed himself for not heading back sooner and began swimming as swiftly and silently as he could back towards the safety of the willow tree. The strong muscles in his back flexed and rippled as his lean body coursed through the water undetected. the water seemed to slide effortlessly over his scarred skin and he savored the feeling before he finally reached the lazy branches that bent low to the water. As quietly as he could he stepped out of the lake, crystalline drops sliding slowly down his back and thick legs.

As the cold air began to nip at his wet skin he remembered the rag he had left on the ground and began to dab at himself. When he was sufficiently dry he snatched the clean shirt he'd left on the branch and hurried to button it. the rust-colored flannel was warm and Daryl seemed to suddenly realize how cold the water had been. Careful to remain hidden behind the tree trunk, he slid into his old jeans and breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he had enjoyed his private moment in the lake, he knew that there were too many things that needed doing for him to be playing around in the water. He ran one hand through his mussed, damp hair and began to make his way back towards camp.

_Breakfast ain't gonna' catch itself._

As Daryl strode back into camp he saw Carol beginning to heat water over a small fire. Her tired eyes looked up at him in greeting and almost seemed to smile but she quickly turned back to her task. He considered saying something but the right words had always been hard to come by for Daryl Dixon and the loss of Sophia had not helped matters. He settled on a brief nod before continuing on to his tent.

Through his open flap he watched her. Her frail hands worked at building the fire and every few seconds a weak sigh would pass her lips, almost imperceptible. Her frame seemed to slump under the weight of her thoughts and she sat on the ground beside the now simmering pot. Lori spoke to her but she did not seem to hear; her pale blue eyes glassy and somehow faraway.

Watching her attempt at normalcy, as she tried her best to function, made it perfectly clear to Daryl that whatever hurt and anger he had tried to leave behind in the cold, clear water of the lake was waiting for him in Carol's eyes.

_ Christ; I ain't never gonna get away from that little girl...from any of this... And it sure don't look like Carol is neither..._

He didn't want to watch anymore. He caught one last glimpse of the broken woman before zipping up his flap and wondering if she ever felt clean.


	3. Motions

**Thank you so much for the kind reviews! I am really enjoying this process and am proud to be a part of this wonderful group of TWD fanatics and writers : ) As much as I love writing in Daryl's POV I wanted to switch gears here and let Carol's thoughts come through because you can't have Caryl without Carol lol. Hopefully I can do her justice!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 3: Motions**

It was endless cycle of seemingly pointless little tasks: food, chores, waking, resting, washing, nodding, talking, thinking, crying... Things hadn't gotten any easier since Sophia but at least they didn't seem to be getting worse. She was trapped in a heavy, numbing fog... an invisible barrier between her and the rest of the group. She knew it wasn't healthy, that it wouldn't last, but for now it was enough.

Carol sat on the ground and watched over a pot of simmering water. Tiny bubbles began to rise, one after the other, only to burst quietly on the surface.

_Is this all I'm good for? Keeping watch over a pot of water?_

She sighed wrapping her thin arms around her frame. Before she could allow the impending frustration to reach her, the fog seemed to absorb it.

_No use going down that road; not now anyway._

She rose and began walking towards the house, hoping to find a better task; something to keep her occupied, distracted and safe behind her barrier. Within each idle moment lay the possibility of a breach in the wall and she still wasn't ready to deal with the onslaught of terrible thoughts that lurked on the fringes of her consciousness.

Glenn and Maggie stood on the porch talking; the two seemed to be inseparable of late. Carol choked down the bitterness that began to creep up her throat as she watched the young couple. Their conversation died as she climbed the wide porch steps and she could feel their eyes on her. It was as if her presence had cast a pall over them... Somehow, the loss of her daughter had turned her into a leper. None of them knew what to say or how to act around her... as if she had become someone else... The young couple stood on the porch, squirming beneath the weight of the awkward silence that seemed to have followed Carol up the steps. Irritation began to flicker just beneath her skin but she remembered the tiny bubbles in the water and allowed her feelings to float away and burst without anyone being the wiser.

_I can't really blame them; it's not as if I would know what to say either._

She hugged her ragged frame tighter and hurried past them through the squeaking screen door. The sound of running water drew her to the kitchen where she found Lori and Beth washing dishes. The two women heard her come in and offered weak smiles over their shoulders.

She stood behind them for a moment, her blue eyes darted nervously around the spacious kitchen before settling reluctantly on her shoes. "It alright if I help?" she asked in a soft, pleading voice, hoping that they couldn't sense the desperation threatening to work its way into her words. Lori and Beth exchanged glances before nodding and motioning for her to join them around the sink.

"No sense in all three of us being here," Lori said. "Beth, honey, why don't you go on and see if there's anything your father needs help with. We're the guests; we should be the ones doing dishes."

The young woman smiled sweetly before tucking blonde curls behind her ears and turning on her heel. Carol watched her go; she liked Beth. There was something very genuine and soothing about her kind nature. A sad smile played on Carol's lips as she wondered how someone so innocent could survive in a world like this.

_No. Stop it._

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the dark thought to retreat...back into the recesses of her hazy mind. She quickly returned her attention to the slender woman at her side and the dirty dishes piled in the sink. "Wash or dry?"

"I'm sorry?" Carol seemed confused by the question.

"I said would you rather wash or dry?" Lori repeated.

"I'll wash." She answered softly.

"Alright," said Lori. "Just hand them over as you finish."

The motions were almost mechanical. Carol's deft hands plunged into the soapy water, seeking out utensils and cups. The sounds of ceramic, glass and metal clinking and scraping beneath the water helped to fill the silence that had settled over the two women.

Lori glanced to her left, eyeing Carol. "Picking out the small stuff first?"

Carol nodded, keeping her eyes on her work. She wasn't entirely sure how she would handle an actual conversation; if she could handle it at all.

_Maybe it will help. Staying quiet doesn't seem to be doing much anyway._

But before she had time to say anything Lori smiled and said, "I've always done that. I have to get all the little things out of the way because I just can't stand finishing up all the plates and then having to go back and fish around for forks and knives hiding at the bottom of the sink. It always drove Rick crazy; he's just the opposite... goes for the big ticket items first." She chuckled softly to herself, recalling a fond memory from another time.

It was nice to have Lori breaking the silence. She wasn't pressuring Carol to talk or treating her like a basket case. Maybe this was what she needed; some normal conversation... or at least to listen to it.

Standing in the kitchen, listening to Lori and scrubbing grease from a white serving dish suddenly seemed bizarre to Carol. Here she was, with prune-like fingers and lowered chin, doing the same things she used to..._before_. _Before all of this_. She began to gently gnaw on her lower lip as the memories came back to her...

The kitchen had been her place. Ed seldom let her leave the house and when he was there with her, he played the part of an overseer, looming over her to ensure that each glass was spotless and that every fork was tucked neatly into the proper drawer... She remembered her hands shaking as he watched her lift a heavy stack of freshly washed plates off the counter. She had turned to place them in one of their lower cabinets but stumbled and crashed to the floor along with the clean china. The plates shattered; fragments flew in every direction, sliding across the linoleum floor... Carol had put her hands out to break her fall and ceramic shards had lodged themselves in the soft flesh of her palms. For several seconds, she lay on the floor in the midst of the wreckage, her body shaking as she forced herself to hold back the screams and sobs locked behind her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth...

_I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! _ Her thoughts screamed in desperation but she knew it didn't matter... She could hear his heavy footsteps as he stomped towards her, crunching bits of broken dishes beneath his boots. Her heart was pounding, straining against her ribcage. She slowly lifted her hands, now sticky with blood from the jagged shards, and covered her head, anticipating the blow. Her breaths had become quick and shallow and her entire body quivered with the knowledge that Ed would soon be closing the distance between them.

She kept her eyes closed but could smell the liquor on his breath as he bent over her, his face inches from hers... "Fuckin' bitch," he hissed. His voice low and filled with malice. "Look what ya fuckin' done!" There was no time to brace herself; like a crack of thunder Ed's heavy hand slapped her hard across the face. Her lower lip ground against her clenched teeth, tearing, and drops of pink and red spittle flew from her stinging mouth.

Carol knew better than to try and get up. Instead she lay on the cold floor and trembled as she used every fiber of her being to keep from screaming. Ed stood up, apparently satisfied with the damage. "Get this shit cleaned up," he snarled before stomping to the front door and slamming it shut behind him.

The second she heard his truck speeding over their gravel drive, she released the sobs that had been building in her chest. She forced herself off the floor and gingerly put a finger to her jaw, which had taken the brunt of Ed's blow. She winced at the contact and could already feel her lower lip beginning to swell. Carefully, she pulled the ceramic shards from her palms, inhaling sharply with each extraction. After a few moments she was able to stand up and clung to the counter for support. Her body and mind still reeling from the experience, she managed to stumble down the hall towards the bathroom, leaving bloody smears on the walls when she braced herself.

She flipped the switch in the small bathroom and the light slowly flickered on. Her reflection appeared suddenly in the mirror and fresh tears fell from her eyes as she took in the awful sight. Her hands were raw and her bottom lip was torn at the right corner leaving a dark trail of blood to drip down her chin. She turned her head to the side and could see an ugly purple bruise beginning to form along her jaw line. More tears fell as she hugged herself with bloody hands and said a silent prayer of thanks that Sophia had not been home to see this...

After running warm water over her ravaged palms, and dabbing at her swollen lip with a washcloth, she slowly made her way back the kitchen. She ignored the pain as best she could and pulled a broom and dust pan from a nearby closet. Silent tears continued to slide down her cheeks as she swept up the broken pieces of her dishes. Finally, she took a damp rag from the sink and knelt to wipe her own blood off of the floor. _Ed would want things clean when he got back..._

Something caused Carol to start and she turned to see Lori's hand resting on her right shoulder. "You alright?" The dark haired woman asked. There was a look of concern on her face and her brows knit together.

"Yes, I-I was just a little lost in thought, that's all." She answered softly, keeping her eyes on the white dish in her hands. She had probably been washing it for some time now...

"You just looked...like you were somewhere else for a while there," Lori said, letting her hand drop from Carol's shoulder.

"I guess I was," Carol shrugged and forced a faint smile to her lips, hoping to ease Lori's concern.

Sensing her friend's reluctance to discuss the issue further, Lori simply returned the smile and continued to dry the dishes that Carol handed her.

Carol looked down at her hands in the soapy water and could still make out the pale scars on her palms. She clenched her fists and reminded herself that Ed was gone, that he could never touch her or Sophia again... Nothing could hurt Sophia now... That was her only solace.

Feeling a need to get away from the kitchen for a while she handed the last plate to Lori, "Think I'm going to see if they need some help outside."

Lori nodded, "Alright. Well I'll be in here for a bit so if you're thinking you need to talk..."

The grateful look in Carol's blue eyes seemed to be enough for her and she returned to her work. Carol walked past the living room and out onto the porch. As soon as she felt the fresh air on her skin the bad memories seemed to fall away. She inhaled deeply, smelling the grass, the trees, water and something else...

_ Food._

Someone was cooking and her eyes scanned the campsite in the distance. She saw Rick and Shane talking beneath a tree, arguing perhaps. T-Dog was headed towards the RV to relieve Andrea on watch duty, a pistol tucked into the back of his jeans.

_What is that smell?_

Her empty stomach began a low rumble as she finally spied the source or the aroma. Daryl was seated on a log near the campfire and held a small, black skillet in one hand. In his other hand was a knife and he used it to poke at the contents of the skillet. Unbidden, a soft smile came to Carol's lips.

She made her way down the wide porch steps and headed for camp. As she walked and felt the breeze on her skin, she could feel tension beginning to fade. One hand went to the cross at her neck and she held it tightly, affectionately as she looked around and took in the rolling expanse of the farm.

_ They've built a life here. It's not perfect but it's what we've got. _

Her heart ached for Sophia but her girl was gone.

_She's safe._ _She's escaped all of this and no can hurt her now._

Daryl looked up from his skillet and caught Carol's eyes as she approached the camp. She smiled at him; a weak smile... but a smile nonetheless. He wondered what had brought that on; the woman had been in a daze for a while now and he was starting to think she was never going to snap out of it.

She continued walking only to stop at the campfire. Daryl stared at her, still suspicious of the smile she was sporting. He nodded a silent greeting as she took a seat on one of the logs across from him.

"I think it's starting to burn." She said as her elbows rested on her knees.

It took Daryl a moment to realize what she was saying; it was rare she said two words to anybody these days. His eyes narrowed in confusion until she gestured at the skillet.

"Shit!" He swore and removed it from the fire blowing on the scorched bits of greasy meat. "Godammitt!"

Carol couldn't help herself and a small chuckle escaped her lips at seeing the redneck become so flustered over cooking.

"I was doin' just fine 'till your scrawny ass came up here distractin' me." For an instant he regretted his outburst and thought maybe he had gone too far. Carol was a grieving mother after all.

_ The fuck did I go an' say that for? My damn mouth always workin' faster than my brain..._

But his fear subsided as he watched Carol begin to laugh even harder.

"Don't know what you're laughin' for; ruined my damn lunch." He barked in exasperation.

"I'm sorry," she said between laughs. "I didn't mean to distract you; I'm sure it's still good."

He snorted and poked at the charred meat with the tip of his knife. "Oh yeah, you try it then." He thrust the skillet at her.

Carol grabbed the thick handle and studied the blackened meat before lifting her gaze to meet Daryl's. He was watching her like a hawk, determined to see her take a bite.

His frowned and narrowed his eyes, "Well? I'm waitin'." His hands were on the knees of his dirty jeans and he tapped his fingers impatiently.

She couldn't quite put her finger on what was so funny about all of this but she felt her smile widening. "Fine." she said before plucking a chunk of charred meat from the skillet. She raised the greasy morsel to her lips and paused, staring directly at Daryl before popping it into her mouth.

"So how's it taste?" He sneered, one fist under his chin.

It was terrible! The hunk of meat tasted like it had been scraped off the underside of an old stove and it seemed to grow as she chewed it, the grease making her want to gag. But with surprising composure and a mouthful of food she answered, "It's great." And smiled.

The corner of Daryl's mouth curled upwards in his version of a smile and for a moment Carol wondered if he might actually break down and laugh. But instead he simply ran one hand through his shaggy hair and stared at his shoes. "The hell it is."

Carol finally choked down the meat and instantly burst into more laughter. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed.

_Well... when, since this whole thing started, had anything actually been funny?_

It felt so good to smile, to laugh, to break through the fog and feel something good for once. She tried to wipe some of the grease from her lips with the back of her hand but she just continued to laugh. This feeling wouldn't last, she knew, but she was sure going to enjoy it while it did. For a fleeting moment Carol felt alive, and safe. Daryl sat across from her probably thinking she was crazy but that was ok. She wanted to savor this moment before the fog returned... if it returned.


	4. Control

**While composing the previous chapter, I actually found that I enjoy writing in Carol's POV as much as Daryl's so I wanted to explore her character a bit more. I am fascinated by both Daryl and Carol as individuals but am definitely itching to focus on their relationship so hopefully I can set some things up in this chapter. Reviews are always appreciated and thank you for taking the time to read : )**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 4: Control**

Daryl wasn't sure what had gotten into her. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd heard her laugh, or any of them laugh for that matter. But there she was, sitting across the fire laughing over some burned rabbit...

_Maybe she's losin' it._

He entertained that very real possibility as he pulled a rag from his pocket and began to wipe the grease from his knife; narrowed eyes darting suspiciously from the shining blade to Carol's flushed face.

She tried to conceal the redness in her cheeks with delicate hands but felt she was failing and finally let them drop to her sides. The laughter began to subside, leaving a wistful smile on her lips. She became aware of the feel of the log beneath her, fingernails digging gently into the rough bark; she didn't want to let the moment go. The numbing fog had receded, allowing her to feel something, to experience something genuine and however fleeting the moment was, it was a welcome respite. Before her thoughts consumed her, Carol picked up the skillet once more and offered it to Daryl.

"Don't let me go and hog it all," she said, smiling softly.

Reluctantly, he set his knife aside and took the skillet, snorting as he stared down at its charred contents. He plucked out a small chunk with his fingers and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly.

"I've had worse." he said, sucking the grease from his fingers.

Carol could only shake her head and smile.

Just as Daryl was finishing his lunch, he turned to see Rick and Shane approaching camp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at the two figures.

_Wonder what they want now._

To his surprise, the men addressed Carol upon reaching the campfire.

"Shane and I have been talkin'," said Rick, his hands on his hips.

Carol simply stared up at him in silence.

"We've been thinkin' it would be a good idea to get everybody trained on gun use."

Carol's blue eyes remained fixed on Rick. Shane stood beside him, thick arms folded across his chest

"That way, in case of an attack, everyone has a decent shot of gettin' out alive. No sitting ducks. That somethin' you might be interested in?" Rick waited patiently for her response.

In all her years with Ed she had never been allowed near any of his guns. On bad days she had often been tempted to use one of them on herself but fear and the guilt of leaving Sophia always stayed her hand. With Ed she had been a prisoner, a victim... She didn't want to be a victim anymore.

"Yes. Yes; I think that's a good Idea. I should know how to shoot...to protect myself." Her nails dug deeper into the log but she managed to hold Rick's gaze. She needed him to know that she was serious.

"Alright then," said Rick, as he turned to face Shane. "What were you thinkin'? This afternoon?"

Shane scratched the top of his head as he considered Rick's words. "Yeah; that oughtta work fine; just gotta round up some cans 'n bottles to use as targets and I think we'll be all set."

"Where's this little shoot out goin' down?" Daryl asked, hands resting on his dirty jeans.

Rick faced him, "We were thinkin' the eastern side of the farm. We can use the fence, set the targets up along the top."

"What? You gonna come get some pointers too man?" Shane scoffed.

"Just thought it would be a good show is all," Daryl answered, biting back the anger on his tongue.

Shane rolled his eyes and strode away in search of makeshift targets.

"Try to ignore him Daryl; he's just wantin' to pick a fight with somebody, anybody."

Daryl merely snorted, slung his crossbow over his shoulder and headed towards the wood line.

Carol watched him go, wondering if he really would drop by for shooting lessons later.

"Carl, Lori, Maggie, Glenn and Andrea are comin' too. I tried to talk to Patricia about it but she's just too uncomfortable around guns. Just meet us down by the fence in an hour or two and we'll see how it goes."

Carol nodded, still unsure of the decision she'd made.

_Am I really ready to be handling a gun? Guess I don't have much of a choice anymore; there won't always be someone there to help me... I just don't want to feel like a victim anymore._

Rick began walking back to his tent and Carol was left alone with her thoughts. She chewed nervously on her lower lip wondering what it would be like to hold a gun in her hands. The only weapon she'd ever used was the pick axe... The one she used on Ed... Slowly, images from the quarry began flickering to life in her mind's eye

The sun was glaring down on them, it's angry white heat scalding their broken camp. They had been overrun and bodies littered the rocky ground... Walkers, friends... _Ed_.

A walker surprised him in their tent and tore a mouthful of flesh from Ed's throat. He stumbled into the center of the camp, snarling as he choked on his own blood. One hand was pressed to his gushing wound and the other flailed in front of him, seeking help that never came. Frozen in fear, Carol could only watch as her husband struggled. She had been leaning against the RV and it was the only thing that held her up. Not far off, Andrea was on the ground, watching her sister die.

_There was no hope for the bitten..._

Ed continued to struggle for breath as he staggered through the camp but too much blood had been spilled and his strength failed him. The color had drained from his snarling face and with a final grunt he collapsed. Dark spittle covered his lips and blood oozed from his fresh wound, soaking into the dusty ground.

Carol could feel herself sliding, the RV cold against her sweaty back. She slowly began shaking her head.

_This can't be happening... It's not... It can't be... What can I do?_

The thoughts screamed through her pounding head as her hands reached up to cover her face. She felt utterly powerless as she finally slumped to the ground, holding her head in shaking hands. The sun continued to beat down on the grisly scene and beads of sweat mingled with Carol's fresh tears.

_What can I do? What can I do?!_

She let her hands drop to her sides and forced herself to look at Ed's corpse. He was grotesque. Bulging eyes stared up at the merciless sun and small streams of blood still trickled from the corners of his gaping mouth. He lay on his back, hairy arms splayed out at his sides. For an instant, it looked to Carol as though something had knocked him down and he would rise at any moment... That was when Carol's glassy eyes widened; she suddenly realized how much worse this nightmare could become... Ed had been bitten... and the bitten turn.

Her mind reeled as she imagined her husband's bloated carcass rising from the dusty earth... rising as the true monster she has always known he was... She could not let that happen. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Daryl approaching with something in his hands... a pickaxe. She knew in that moment that Daryl must have shared her thoughts and was planning to use the pickaxe to ensure that Ed stayed down, permanently. But she couldn't let him do it... It wasn't his place...

With all of the strength she could muster, Carol pushed herself off the ground, feeling bits of gravel press into her soft palms. Some of the others had arrived at the scene and watched as the grieving woman began walking slowly towards Daryl. She closed the distance between them just before he reached the body. His cold, blue eyes narrowed as she stood in front of him, "What are ya doin' Carol?" He asked with a lowered voice.

She looked at the rusted points of the axe and then back at Daryl's face, "Let me." she said as she stared determinedly into his eyes, hands balled into fists at her sides.

Daryl stared at her in silence and in the silence was acceptance.

_He's her problem; her demon to lay to rest. _

He wiped sweat from his brow before holding out the pickaxe with quiet understanding.

She gently took the weapon from him and gripped the handle firmly with slender fingers. His eyes remained fixed on her face as he slowly backed away, leaving her to the dark task. She watched him retreat into the shadow of the RV before breaking his gaze and turning to face the body.

While she stared down at her ruined husband, she could feel the others' eyes on her. She knew that T-Dog, Rick, Shane, Glenn and Dale had made their way to the center of camp but she was only dimly aware of their existence. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was the weapon she held in her hands. She closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, trying to stop herself from shaking. Carol stood over her husband's corpse, legs apart, every muscle tensed... Slowly, she lifted the pickaxe above her head, sunlight glinting on the points... As her thin arms struggled to support the weight of it, she allowed herself to remember all of the things that Ed had done to her...

...The beatings; the bruises, the broken ribs, nights spent curled on the kitchen floor, the screaming, the metallic taste of her own blood as his fists collided with her jaw over and over and over again... The fear, the pain, the hopelessness...

_Enough... ENOUGH!_

She frowned, gritting her teeth as she swung the pickaxe downwards; years of hurt and anger driving the rusted point towards its target... There was a sickening crack as the point collided with Ed's skull and the sound seemed to echo and linger throughout the entire quarry. Blood, bone and glistening bits of brain matter went flying as Carol jerked the point free of Ed's skull only to raise it above her head once more. For a second time she brought the axe down hard on the dead man and his head seemed to cave in, splitting and crumbling to reveal the pink and red contents within. Carol dislodged the point with such force that a fine arc of blood followed it, raining down on her as she held the axe over her head. She didn't know how many blows she'd dealt but when the strength in her arms finally deserted her, all that remained of Ed's face was a pile of slick pulp.

She was breathing heavily and trembling as she released the axe, letting it fall to the ground beside what remained of her husband. Before turning away, Carol glared down at him one last time...

_ Enough._

Satisfied, she wiped some of the sweat and gore from her face with the back of her hand and walked silently to the RV. She could still feel their eyes on her back as she reached the door.

_What must they think of me?_

She pushed the thought away, too exhausted to deal with it after everything that had happened. As she reached for the door handle she saw Daryl staring at her.

_ He thinks I'm crazy... He must._

But when she met his gaze, she found no trace of suspicion; no judgment... Only the quiet understanding that always seemed to fill the space between them. Neither spoke as she lowered her eyes and opened the door, disappearing inside.

Lori had been hunkered down in the RV with Carl and Sophia since the first walkers infiltrated the camp; when she stumbled inside, Carol found the three of them cowering beneath a table. Lori's arms were wrapped around the two trembling children and she was speaking softly to them. Her dark eyes widened as she saw Carol and a single tear slid down her face. She whispered to Sophia, "Look! Look whose here!"

The young girl turned to see her mother standing at the front of the RV and ran towards her. Carol knelt down to embrace her daughter and felt her resolve breaking as the girl wrapped her skinny arms around her and cried against her blood-stained shirt. Her arms encircled her daughter and the two of them cried on the floor of the RV, so grateful for one another. Carol blinked through her tears and faced her daughter, "It's over sweetheart... it's finally over."

Quiet tears had begun to fall as Carol relived those terrible moments from the quarry. She sniffed and wiped them away.

_How long have I been sitting here?_

Her legs had grown stiff and they ached in protest as she stood up from the hard log.

_ I should find Rick and the others. I can't sit around seeing ghosts..._

She walked slowly at first, wishing the feeling would return to her legs. But as she began to make her way towards the eastern side of the farm, her pace increased. She felt renewed with purpose.

_I felt powerful with that axe in my hand... I had control... I could have that again._

She hugged herself and hurried towards the fence, anticipating the feeling of a weapon in her hand, of power, of safety... When she saw that some of the others had already gathered in the field, her resolve grew. She had made the right decision.

Rick smiled when he saw her approach, "Glad you're here Carol. We were just talking about some basics before anybody gets started."

She returned the smile before walking towards Lori and Carl. Lori could see that Carol had been crying and reached out to take her hand. Grateful for the gesture, Carol gave Lori's hand a gentle squeeze before they both turned to face Rick who was giving instructions and pointing to the targets that Shane had arranged on the fence.

_This is good. We should have done this a long time ago. Sophia would be proud that I'm learning to protect myself._

The though offered some comfort but inside she was still somewhat shaken by her memory of Ed's death and despite the warm weather she felt a nagging chill in her chest. She distracted herself by looking around for Glenn and Maggie.

_Hadn't Rick said they were coming?_

She looked over her shoulder at the farm house, hoping to spot the couple on their way down but something else caught her eye. There was movement near the wood line. For a half a heartbeat Carol thought she had seen a walker and her breath caught in her throat. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun and squinted hard.

The chill in her chest faded as she realized that it was Daryl emerging from the woods, crossbow and what looked like a kill slung over his shoulder. He was too far away for her to be certain but she almost thought he had met her gaze. He continued to walk towards them.

_Was he going to join them?_

Rick's voice caused her head to snap around and she could feel herself blushing as he chided her, "Carol this is important. If you don't learn this stuff we can't move on and we need to get started while we still got plenty of daylight."

"I'm sorry, I just..I thought I saw something." She said as she dropped her gaze and toyed nervously with the cross around her neck.

Rick looked past her, to the wood line, and was able to make out Daryl's advancing form in the distance. "Right," Rick sighed, rubbing the back of his head. She could feel his eyes on her and her cheeks burned. Fortunately, he soon picked back up where he had left off instruction and Carol tried desperately to focus.


	5. Distractions

**In order to keep themselves from losing their minds and giving up, each member of Rick's group has found something or someone to keep them occupied... Daryl and Carol are no exception; everyone needs a distraction now and then. This chapter will focus mainly on Daryl and his chosen pastime. Thank you for the positive reviews! They have really inspired me to continue this story and as always, thank you for taking the time to read Tethered : )**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 5: Distractions**

Daryl was hiding, his back pressed firmly against the trunk of a large oak. His kept his breaths deep and even, calming his nerves. Carefully, he managed to peek around the trunk and catch a fleeting glimpse of his quarry.

The fawn's black nose was lowered to the forest floor, rooting up dead leaves in a search for grass. Its tail twitched as it paced around the small clearing. Daryl couldn't believe his luck...

_ The hell is a fawn that size doin' alone?_

He gripped his crossbow tightly, waiting for the perfect moment. Just as he shifted to aim the bow, silence fell over the clearing. The fawn had lifted its head from the ground and was staring in the direction of Daryl's hiding place.

_Shit._

His calloused fingers tightened their grip around the stock and he held his breath, not daring to make a single sound... The fawn's dark eyes widened and its large ears pricked up. Wet nose quivering, it lifted a slender foreleg and began a slow retreat. Daryl heard dry leaves crunching softly under the fawn's hooves... He was going to lose it... He strained to remain still, his heavy boots digging quietly into the earth...

_Wait._

Leaves continued to crackle under the fawn's nervous footsteps; it was moving faster now... It must have smelled him. There was a pause as the animal sniffed the air one last time, trying to sense where the danger lay. It's brown fur rippled and it turned away to leave the clearing.

_NOW._

In a single fluid motion, Daryl leapt from the cover of the oak, raised his bow and loosed an eager arrow. A sharp bleat ripped through the woods, piercing the silence. The arrow was buried in the fawn's neck and the animal struggled wildly, managing to run about fifty yards before collapsing beneath a young pine tree.

Daryl moved swiftly towards his kill, never allowing his muscles to relax. The sound may have attracted other animals...or worse. He followed the fresh trail of blood on the forest floor; red spots bright against a carpet of dead leaves. He could hear the fawn's cries and hurried to where it lay in a trembling heap.

It's black eyes were glassy and crazed with fear as Daryl stood over it, crossbow in hand. The arrow protruded from its neck, twitching slightly as the fawn struggled to lift its head. Daryl knelt beside the dying animal and laid down his bow. Carefully, he reached out and laid a rough hand on the fawn's side. It continued to bleat in fear and pain as Daryl closed his eyes. For several heartbeats, he let his hand rest on the fawn, feeling its rib cage rise and fall with each shallow breath. The fur was soft beneath his fingers and he could feel the life ebbing out with each labored breath. Slowly opening his eyes, Daryl withdrew his hand and pulled the knife from his belt. With the last of its strength, the fawn writhed at the sight of the shining blade above it. A bead of sweat trickled down Daryl's temple and he held his breath before plunging the weapon downwards into the animal's exposed throat.

Blood gushed hot from the gaping wound as Daryl jerked the knife away. All of the light had faded from the fawn's large eyes and it finally lay still beneath the pine tree. Daryl gently pulled his arrow from the fawn's soft neck and reloaded his bow. Hi wiped the blade on his jeans before sheathing it and finally allowed himself to relax. This was a great find; none of them would go hungry tonight.

He reached into his rucksack, searching for rope and pulled out several yards.

_Pine's too small._

He looked around for a sturdier tree and found another oak with decent branches. Satisfied with his choice, Daryl grabbed the fawn by its thin hind-legs and dragged it to the base of the oak. With nimble fingers he bound the skinny legs and pulled the rope into a tight knot. He then began to scramble up the tree, the other end of the rope between his clenched teeth. When he reached a branch that was high enough for his purpose he carefully climbed onto it, locking his legs to keep himself from falling. Quickly and quietly, Daryl began to pull the rope upwards, the muscles in his arms flexing as the fawn's carcass was lifted from the forest floor. When the fawn hung several feet off the ground, Daryl secured the rope to the branch, tying multiple knots to ensure it would hold. His task completed, he inched off the branch and shimmied down the rough trunk.

Panting, Daryl stopped to admire his handiwork. The fawn hung limply from the thick branch, its body swaying slightly as a faint breeze caught the rope. Blood dripped from the angry slash across the animals throat, forming a small pool on the ground below.

Daryl slumped to the ground and searched his pack for an apple; he breathed a tired sigh of relief as his fist closed around the fruit. Carol had taken to putting small snacks in the men's bags so that there would always be something to tide them over on runs.

_Damn woman needs to mind her business an' stay the hell out of my shit._

But his frustrations seemed to dissipate as he held the green apple to his face, breathing in the fresh smell. He bit into the sweet fruit with gusto wondering if anything had ever tasted so good. Exhausted, he reclined against the trunk of the tree and took another bite, letting some juice trickle down his chin. He stared at the fawn as he chewed, its dead eyes watching him from above. Daryl's heavy lids drooped and he folded one arm behind his head as he took everything in.

Hazy afternoon light filtered down through the trees dappling the ground in bright spots. Daryl chewed slowly, savoring the apple and soaking up sounds. Birds chattered in the branches above him, and a gentle breeze whistled past his ears. He'd been honing his senses his whole life and could catch the faintest scents on the wind, the softest sounds...

Juice from the apple was tart on his tongue as he took another bite. He inhaled deeply and could smell everything... Pine, the musky odor of the fawn, its fresh blood pooling on the ground... Sweat, the soft black dirt beneath his boots... All of it... As he reclined against the tree and felt the breeze wick away sweat from his brow, his thoughts turned to his brother.

_ Wonder where he ended up. Could be he's just sittin' in the woods somewhere, like me... gettin' by. Can't nothin' kill Merle but Merle._

He was content to leave it at that and took one final bite of the apple before chucking the core across the clearing. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on thoughts of where his brother might be, if he was even alive... Daryl's place was here, at least for now. He had often considered taking off, leaving Rick and his people to fend for themselves, but could never bring himself to do it. He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason, but something kept him tethered to Rick's group. At least he had a purpose here... He felt a sense of pride as he stared at the fawn.

_Gotta be good for somethin'._

He let the simple thought hang in the air and closed his eyes once more, savoring the tranquility of the forest. The afternoon light was warm on his face and he fought against sleep as he waited for his kill to drain.

_Can't be sleepin'... Gotta be headin' back soon..._

"I think it's necessary at this point," said Lori as she sat with her hands folded in her lap. "Everyone should be trained, or at least be comfortable handling guns."

Rick nodded, grateful for his wife's support. "I just don't know how Herschel will take to the idea."

They sat together, in their small tent, exchanging heavy glances. Rick was painfully aware of how fragile the group's relationship with Herschel was. They were at his mercy. He could make them leave at any moment...

Rick pressed his palms to his forehead and sighed, "I've gotta talk to him. If we're gonna do this he needs to sign off on it His farm; his say."

Lori accepted her husband's words in silence and placed a hand on his shoulder. Rick rose from the cot and gently wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, pulling her close. Her head and hands rested against his chest and the two of them stood like that for several minutes in the stifling heat of the tent. Rick closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. She listened to the steady beating of his heart and longed desperately for a simpler time... A time when he didn't have to shoulder the needs of so many, and take on so much... "I'll go with you," she said softly, looking up at those tired eyes of his. "When you talk to Herschel..."

Rick stared at the gray ceiling of the tent and weighed Lori's words. His arms tightened around her waist as he kissed her forehead. "Alright. Let's go." Rick took her hand and the two of them stepped out of their tent and headed to the farm house.

"I don't like this." Herschel said, his hands flat on the dining table. "I don't like the thought of that many people firin' guns on my land." His brows knit together as he stared hard at Rick and Lori.

"I know that this is not what you want but it's something we need to do. With the way things are now..." Rick paused as he began to pace and rack his brain for the right words."With the way things are now," he continued, lowering his voice in earnestness and looking directly into Herschel's concerned eyes, "...We can't afford to be unprepared... We...We've lost too many people already."

Herschel frowned, considering Rick's words. He saw Lori chewing nervously on her nails at the far end of the dining room.

_These people are scared; they've got every right to be. But do they really need to turn my home into a firin' range?_

Finally, the old farmer raised his head wearily and met Rick's gaze. He could see desperation in the younger man's eyes.

_He's just tyrin' to do right by his people..._

"Where would you do it?" He asked, sighing in defeat.

Rick and Lori exchanged shocked glances

"Shane and I were thinkin' about the eastern side of the farm. We want to set up targets along the fence if that's alright."

Herschel clasped his hands in front of him, "You and your people will be responsible for any damage to the fence."

Rick nodded, "That only seems fair. I know none of us wants another incid..." He stopped short; the memory of Dale's death still fresh in his mind. He remembered the look in Dale's eyes as he lay dying in the grass... They were wide with panic and hurt.

His body... His body was mangled, ripped open by the cold, dead fingers of a stray walker... His entrails spilled onto the ground, steaming in the night air and nobody knew what to do... The gun was shaking in Rick's hand as he knelt over his friend... There was only one way. Just as Rick cocked the hammer, preparing to end the dying man's agony, Daryl had taken the pistol from him... Sparing Rick the grisly task. Dale's eyes were wild under his bushy brows as he stared up at the two men for the last time, quietly accepting his fate. "Sorry brother," Daryl whispered before pulling the trigger... And with a single shot, it was over... They were all left huddled around the broken body. Carl cried softly into his mother's shirt as the group attempted to grasp what had happened. What were they supposed to do?

Rick shook his head, hoping to clear away the image. Lori shuddered at the shared memory and Herschel released a heavy sigh.

"We won't let that happen again." Rick's voice broke the silence that had filled the room. "We want to keep this place safe. The gun training is a step in the right direction." Rick's voice remained even; he was confident in his decision and waited patiently for Herschel's response.

"Alright," said the farmer, looking at Lori and Rick in turn. "You have my blessing." Before Rick could thank him, Herschel pushed back his chair and slowly rose from the table, "Just remember; this is your responsibility. If this is what you need to do then so be it but exercise caution. I don't want any more bloodshed here." With that, the old man strode from the dining room, leaving Rick and Lori to their plans.

"We should find Shane; let him know we have the go-ahead." said Lori, her thin arms folded across her chest.

Rick nodded and the two of them headed to the porch.

A soft rustling roused Daryl from his sleep and his eyes flew open, darting from left to right, scanning the clearing for danger.

_The fuck are you doin' lettin' your ass fall asleep out here?_

He swore under his breath as he continued to search for the source of the noise. Slowly, his hands reached for the crossbow at his side...

_Where you hidin'?_

Suddenly, his fingers curled around the stock as he spotted something moving across the clearing... A small, gray squirrel sat frozen in fear next to the apple core he'd tossed away earlier. Its nose twitched rapidly, sensing the danger in the air. Daryl watched the bushy tail flicking back and forth as he pulled his arrow... His breathing slowed as he focused on the animal, fingertips tight on the bow...

_Come on..._

It's tiny, black eyes never leaving him, the squirrel crouched to the ground, preparing to spring

_Gotcha._

Daryl loosed the hissing arrow, ending the small creatures life in an instant. He rose from his resting place against the tree to hurried across the clearing to claim his prize. After pulling the arrow from its white underbelly, Daryl stuffed the squirrel into his rucksack and rubbed his aching neck.

_Bout time to be headin' back_.

The ground was dark and soggy beneath the hanging fawn, it's blood having drained while Daryl slept. Satisfied, the hunter climbed the tree to cut the carcass down. As his knife slid across the thick rope, the animal fell to the ground with a soft thud. Daryl wound up the rope he'd used, placing it in his bag for a later date. After some brief stretches to work out the soreness in his back, Daryl knelt, lifting the carcass and slinging it over his left shoulder.

The late afternoon sun sent amber rays through the trees and made the air heavy. A fine sheen of sweat covered Daryl's arms as he made his way back towards the farm. Damp hair was matted to his forehead and he labored under the weight of the fawn. Dull pain still throbbed where the arrow had impaled him weeks before but he merely swore at the empty forest and kept moving, eager to get back before dark. To keep himself from focusing on the pain, Daryl began to think about the gun training that Rick and Shane had mentioned earlier.

_The women can't shoot worth shit._

His hand instinctively went to his temple, fingers feeling the scar that Andrea's shot had left behind...

_Fuckin' Christ. Guess they need this damn' trainin' 'fore that bitch kills somebody._

The trees were thinning now; he was getting close. He breathed a sigh of relief and shifted the weight of the fawn on his shoulder.

_Almost there; move your sorry ass._

As he finally stepped out of the wood line, the bright, hot afternoon seemed to slap him in the face and he squinted as his eyes adjusted. In the distance he could make out Rick and Shane standing with some of the others.

_So they're goin' through with it; could be worth a look._

He wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes and made his way across the field to the fence. As he advanced, someone in the group turned and saw him...

_Carol?_

He was glad she'd decided to go.

_Damn woman needs to learn to look after herself... probably never shot a gun in her life..._

She turned back around to face Rick and Shane. Daryl continued his trek across the field, the fawn growing heavier on his shoulder with each step. "Daryl," Rick called out to him. "Care to join us?" The hunter approached the group exhaling as he laid his kill and his gear on the ground.

"What ya got there?" Rick smiled.

"Dinner; the hell does it look like?" Daryl grunted.

Carl's eyes widened as he ran over to get a closer look at the carcass.

"You can look later Carl; we only got so much daylight left." Rick ushered his son back to the rest of the group who were eagerly awaiting instructions.

Daryl ran a hand through his sweaty hair before resting it on his hip, "Just came to see the show."

Carol stood a few yards away and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Heard Andrea was comin' and wanted to see who her next target was." Daryl smirked.

Rick couldn't help but let a chuckle escape as he turned to stand once more in front of the group.

Daryl folded his tired arms across his chest as he walked towards the others and stood between Carol and Lori. Andrea glared at him from down the line.

"Looks like you had a good day today," Carol said softly, gesturing towards the fawn.

Daryl stared down at his filthy boots, "Wasn't too bad."

"Hush," said Lori, "We're gonna miss everything Rick is saying."

Daryl rolled his eyes before casting a sideways glance at Carol, "What about you?"

She rubbed the back of her neck and looked up at him.

"I mean, you ready for this?" He asked in a lowered voice.

She smiled and looked straight ahead, pretending to focus on Rick's instructions. "Well, I know it won't be easy but I at least figure I'll be better than Andrea," she whispered, trying not to laugh.

Daryl sighed and felt the hint of a smile on his dry lips. "Shut up and pay attention."

A soft flush crept over Carol's cheeks and she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. This was serious business after all...


	6. Trigger

**Why didn't somebody tell me how much fun fan fiction is?! I would have started sooner : ) Thank you again for the kind words that encourage me to keep writing! I am doing my best to remain true to the characters in every scenario so hopefully I have been successful so far! This chapter was really intended to be about guns but it seemed to...evolve as I wrote it; enjoy and thank you for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 6: Trigger**

"Everybody clear?" Rick asked, staring hard at the group before him. The bag of guns lay at his feet.

His charges stared back in silent affirmation.

"Alright then. Everyone needs to pick a weapon from the bag. If you're not sure, Shane and I can help you decide." Rick's hands were on his hips as he watched his son step forward. The boy stood before his father, looking up with pleading eyes, "Can I use your gun Dad?"

Rick hesitated, looking back at Shane but his partner had no answers for him. With some reluctance, Rick pulled his pistol from its holster and offered it to his son. "Remember," said Rick, placing a firm hand on Carl's shoulder, "Get a feel for the weight of it...for the balance." Carl's blue eyes widened as he accepted the Colt from his father. He hefted the weapon in his right hand, then his left, seemingly in awe. Mesmerized by the gun, Carl sauntered back to his place in the sloppy line the group had formed.

Rick's tired eyes lingered on his son; he was starting to grow into that Stetson. The boy looked so serious, so focused. His legs were squared as he raised the revolver and pretended to fire. Only the smattering of dark freckles across the boy's nose reminded Rick that Carl was still a child.

Suddenly, Andrea stepped into Rick's line of sight and he refocused on her.

"I was thinking about a revolver." She said, avoiding direct eye contact.

Rick's brow furrowed.

_She's still thinkin' about what happened with Daryl._

"I'd like to try something quicker than a rifle, more of a point 'n shoot." She pushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face and waited for Rick's response.

He knelt down to reach into the gun bag and groped until his hand closed around what he believed to be the right weapon. "Colt Detective Special," he said, extending his arm. Her pale, green eyes narrowed and a flicker of recognition ran quickly over her features. She met Rick's gaze and her lips parted but before she could speak the answer came. "It's the one Daryl found in the tent when the two of you were out scouting."

"Yeah." She replied, taking the gun from Rick's hand. "You think it's a good choice for me?" It was cold in her hands, and so compact in comparison to the rifles she and Dale had used on watch.

"I do. It's quicker, not as difficult to handle."

Trusting Rick's judgment, Andrea nodded and tucked the Colt Detective into the back of her jeans.

"C'mon, let's keep this movin'; everybody needs to choose one." Rick urged, using one hand to shield his eyes from the angry afternoon sun; it beat down on them mercilessly as they began to crowd around him and search through the gun bag.

Daryl hung back, watching the others.

_Wish I knew where the hell my damn Browning was._

Merle's gun had gone missing and Daryl frowned, wondering who among them had the stones to swipe the damn thing. Carol was the last to choose; she strode slowly to Rick's side and hugged herself as she waited for his advice.

_Oughta grab somethin' small._

Daryl chewed his thumbnail as he watched Rick stoop to retrieve something from the bag. When he withdrew his hand, it held one of the Remingtons.

_The hell is he givin' her that for? Fuckin' thing weighs more'n she does._

He released his thumbnail and spat as he continued to watch the exchange. Rick appeared confident as he handed the rifle over to Carol. She rubbed the back of her head nervously, eyes darting from the gun to Rick's face.

"I just thought I might do better with one of the smaller pistols," said Carol. Her blue eyes questioning Rick, searching his face for an explanation.

"I think you'd do us more good here in camp than headin' out on runs. That bein' said, you should get trained on the same gun that Dal-that Andrea and Glenn use when they're on watch, since you'll likely be joinin' them. I want everyone takin' watch to feel comfortable with longer range weapons. You see a walker comin' out of the tree line, I want you to be able to take it down from a distance."

Carol nodded, acknowledging the wisdom in Rick's words.

_He's right. I don't even know that I'd feel comfortable going on any runs right now. Best to stay where I can actually be of some use. Maybe it won't be that bad..._

But the rifle was heavy and awkward in her frail arms. It was as if there was no right way for her to hold it, let alone shoot the damn thing.

_God; what am I doing? _

Doubt crept slowly up her spine as she returned to the lineup. Her shaking fingers closed tightly around the rifle, sweaty palms making it that much harder to hold.

_What am I doing?_

Shane stood in front of them now and pointed towards the fence, "I got some cans and glass bottles lined up."

Carol held one hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun as she strained to see the distant targets.

"But before we get started," Shane continued, "We need to spread out; can't have ya'll on each other's asses; move! Oughtta be at least ten feet between you and your neighbor."

Glenn stood to the right of Carol, and beside him, Maggie was the last in the lineup. Maggie took several steps to the right, putting some distance between her and Glenn.

"Keep moving down; we need more room," said Glenn. Maggie nodded and continued to walk to the right. Andrea had begun to move down on the other end of the lineup and slowly, the group began to spread out. Daryl stepped back and watched them, widening the gap between Carol and Lori.

Carl turned to face him, "You not gonna do any shooting with us?"

"Naw; think I'll just watch for now. See how ya'll make out."

The boy seemed disappointed as he turned back around and listened to Rick and Shane's directions.

"Ya'll got your weapons, got space... Now I wanna see everyone raise their guns. Ya gotta get a feel for it; for aimin'. Rick and me are gonna make our way down the line an' see that ya'll know how to handle these things," Shane yelled as he stepped out of the line of fire, Rick following on his heels. The two men made their way to the end of the line to start with Maggie.

Carol attempted to aim the rifle, bringing it to eye-level. She didn't know the first thing about aiming a gun and chewed her bottom lip as she struggled to decide where her hands should go. Down the line, Rick and Shane were showing Maggie how to load her weapon; the young woman's face was a mask of absolute concentration as she listened carefully to Rick's instructions and allowed Shane to adjust her arms so that the shotgun rested more comfortably against her shoulder.

Maggie seemed so calm, so fearless... Carol felt a twinge of jealousy as she continued to struggle with her heavy rifle.

_Maybe I was kidding myself with this_. _It's just not me._

Her wrists weakened under the weight of the Remington and she clenched her teeth in frustration.

_What am I going to do when I actually need to use this thing?_

A bead of sweat slid slowly down her left temple, disappearing under her jaw line. The heat would not let up and her anxiety was getting the best of her. Satisfied with Maggie's stance, Rick and Shane had moved on to Glenn who exhaled as he raised his twelve gauge, lowered it, and aimed it once more.

Carol tried to focus on the fence; counting the targets that lined the top. Long necks, wine bottles and several rusted cans winked as the afternoon light hit them and Carol squinted to avoid the glare.

_Guess I'm up next._

Shane clapped Glenn roughly on the back in a show of approval and Carol heard footsteps approaching. Knowing how foolish she must look with that giant rifle in her arms, Carol considered backing out of the lesson.

_They won't miss me; I'll just end up holding them back..._

Her eyes were on the ground as she lowered the weapon and let it hang limply at her side in defeat. "Carol, why are y-" Rick's question was cut short as Daryl stepped forward.

"I got this Rick. How 'bout you get your boy set up?"

Rick hesitated, surprised, but grateful for the help. "Alright then."

"Good luck," Shane snorted as he headed down the line after Rick.

Carol looked sideways as Daryl, her blue eyes wide, a look of confusion on her face.

"Ain't gonna do ya any good down there," he said.

She blinked before dropping her gaze to the rifle at her side.

"Aim it." Daryl's arms were folded across his chest and he stared down at her, eyes narrowed. "Go on."

She swallowed and fresh beads of sweat formed over her top lip. With a small grunt, she lifted the rifle, doing her best to imitate Maggie. Daryl circled her, studying her stance; he laid a single finger against his lips as he assessed the scene.

Carol's heart began to race as he moved around her. She could feel his critical eyes roaming over her back, her arms, her legs... Despite the heat, gooseflesh rose on her skinny arms.

_What does he see? What am I doing wrong?_

Finally, his rough voice broke the silence, "Can't shoot like that."

She peeked over her shoulder, frowning at him. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Face forward," he snapped at her. "Keep your eyes on the damn fence."

She fixed her gaze on a single gleaming bottle in the distance and tried to maintain her composure. The doubt and frustrations were mounting, making her stomach churn, and Daryl yelling at her wasn't helping. But as much as she wanted to drop the gun and retreat to the RV, she held her ground, and waited in silence for Daryl to continue. She wasn't going to let him run her off.

"I said ya can't shoot like that. Gotta spread your legs."

Carol stiffened and decided to risk shooting another glance over her shoulder at him. "Excuse me?"

Daryl closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Your legs; spread 'em. Ya need to relax your stance, square off with your legs apart, far enough that ya feel comfortable... balanced. This ain't no ballet recital; ankles can't be touchin'."

Feeling ridiculous, Carol widened her stance, the heels of her tattered sneakers digging into the dirt.

_This actually does feel a little better. _

He stood behind her, silent. His eyes seeking out imperfections. "Get that back straight."

She swallowed, closing her eyes as drops of sweat slid down her spine.

_Relax. Relax. Just do what he says and get this over with._

She adjusted, forcing herself to stand up straight, the muscles in her back growing knotted with tension. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Rick and Shane had moved down the line to Andrea...

_They're almost done... We're going to have to shoot soon..._

She waited silently for further instruction, staring hard into the distance and refusing to look back at him. Despite her efforts, the rifle was shaking in her hands. Tired arms fought to hold it up...

Soundlessly, he closed the distance between them and appeared at her side like a shadow. She bristled, the hairs at the back of her neck standing on end.

_What is he doing?_

There was a painful tightening in her chest as she felt his eyes on her face, but she continued to focus on the fence, the targets, the bottles...

_Glass, brown, long necks, green, amber, cans, bottles, blue, green, glass..._

The mantra wasn't working. She began to count them.

_thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, six-_

"You know how to hold that thing?" His growled into her ear, shattering her concentration.

_When had he gotten so close?_

Her mouth was dry and she didn't know if it was the rifle in her hands, the sun on her back or Daryl at her side but a wave of heat spread quickly across her face. Her lips parted but no answer came; all she could do was keep her blue eyes locked on the targets.

_Green, blue, glass, brown, bottles, cans..._

Carol was so desperate to lose herself in the mantra that she didn't realize how much the weapon had begun to shake in her slick hands. She knew that he was still waiting for an answer but her mind was reeling and all she could manage to do was count... her lips moving slightly as she mouthed the words...

_Fifteen, sixteen, seven-_

"Godammitt," he muttered under his breath as he reached for the gun and placed his hands on her arms.

In an instant, the numbers and bottles were ripped from her burning mind and all that remained was the feeling of his hands on her arms... She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath as she felt the white-hot static, the electric shocks like pure energy radiating from his fingertips and shuddering through her limbs. One calloused hand gripped her right forearm and the other rested against her back. Before she could think, or speak, he slid his hand down to her wrist, pulling it forward until she felt the fore end of the rifle.

"Feel the ridges? Hold onto 'em." He breathed into her ear.

Her hand was limp in his and he pressed until she felt her fingers sliding under the smooth ridges of the fore end, fitting perfectly. A fragment of her consciousness latched on to the feeling of those ridges and she forced her fingers to coil tightly around them. She managed a nod and his hand slid back down to her wrist.

"Alright, keep that grip. We gotta get your other hand on the stock." His voice and his breathing were perfectly even as he remained focused on the task at hand. Carol nodded again, her eyes still locked on the fence. She had to remind herself to take a breath as the hand that had been resting against her back snaked around to grip her left arm. Her body was rigid as he gently pulled her left hand back to the stock, stopping just behind the trigger.

"Right there," he said, his words muffled against her hair.

An involuntary shiver ran through her and she rolled her shoulders in the hopes of disguising it.

_It's just a gun... It's just a gun and it's just Daryl, helping me to use it... What in creation were they doing out here in this heat? How could Rick and Shane have thought this was the time to train us? This isn't helping; focus. Focus on the gun._

But her attention was hopelessly split between the weight of the rifle, which seemed to be increasing all the time, the heat plastering her blouse to her back, the fence, the hum of electric energy coursing over and under her skin and the reality of his arms around her, keeping her steady.

_The gun; the gun; the gun! _

The thought pounded in her brain, keeping time with her heart.

"Glenn's been keepin' this one loaded for watch so ya ain't gotta reload yet." His words reached her as if through water, distorted by the throb of her heartbeat and the deafening sound of blood rushing in her ears. "Normally ya gotta rack it."

_What was he saying?_

His right hand came away from her wrist as he quickly pulled and released the slide. "See?"

She didn't see... She'd heard the click of the metal but she didn't see... Carol's head was beginning to spin as the heat beat down on her head. She inhaled, smelling the sweat, dirt and smoke that Daryl seemed to carry with him like an aura.

He must have seen her eyelids beginning to droop because his right hand returned to her wrist, squeezing... "Focus Carol," he hissed as the pressure on her wrist grew more intense, causing her to wince. Daryl cast a glance down the line and saw Rick and Shane. "We shootin' or what?"

Rick gave him a thumbs up and Shane yelled out for all of them to hear, "Alright, set your sights; pick your targets." The two men retreated, dropping back behind the shooters.

Carol attempted to clear her cluttered mind and heard clicking and snapping as the others cocked their hammers and racked their slides.

"Ok now; ya gotta line up the sight with your target. See it stickin' up at the end of the barrel?"

A fleeting breeze licked some of the sweat from her brow, cooling her fevered brain and for a shining instant she was able to focus on the notch at the end of the rifle. She nodded, letting Daryl know she was still with him.

"Alright, now pick a target and line it up... focus." His voice was low and he relaxed his grip on her. "Keep both eyes open and focus."

She surrendered to the moment, allowing herself to feel the weight of the weapon in her hands, the sweat on her back... the heat, the pressure... the gun... Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to destroy the small bottle in the distance. Her right hand tightened around the fore end, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. Her left hand slid forward and her index finger extended to hook the trigger. She felt Daryl tense as she began to pull... The air shimmered around her, vibrating with life and static and heat.

"Glass, green, bottle..." She whispered

"Wha-" the question died on Daryl's lips as the she pulled the trigger.

_Now!_

Despite Daryl's grip, the butt of the rifle slammed violently into Carol's right shoulder as it let out a deafening crack. Everything seemed to slow to a drag as she felt herself sliding, falling... eyes closed and teeth clenched as the hard ground rushed to meet her. Daryl's strong hands gripped the undersides of her arms, his eyes focused on a burst of color in the distance. The green bottle exploded and millions of jagged fragments hung, glittering in the angry light of the setting sun before flying apart and disappearing. The whole scene had played out in less than a second, just a pop and a flash of green, but he had seen it in perfect detail.

His attention snapped violently back to the woman whose limp arms he held. "Carol!" He dropped to the ground, gently releasing her arms and allowing her to lie on the cool grass. "Fuckin' Christ, Carol!" The others had gathered around them; Rick and Shane were running down the line to help. Lori's hands covered her face as she stared down at Carol. Andrea called out to Maggie, "Go get Herschel!" Daryl leaned over her, gently shaking her shoulders.

The world had fallen away in an instant. She remembered the sound, a hard crash in her ears, her body colliding with the ground and pressure on her arms where Daryl's fingers had dug in to try and keep her from falling... Sounds began to permeate the thick fog surrounding her, they managed to push through the ringing in her head.. _Carol._.. She heard her name, or at least she thought she did. Then there was pressure on her shoulder where the gun had slammed into her and the pain brought her gasping out of the dark and back into the awful heat of consciousness.

She blinked several times, attempting to grasp what she saw. So many concerned eyes were staring down at her and so many voices... trying to speak at once... She saw relief pass over their faces as she struggled to sit up and rub her wounded shoulder.

"I'm alright," she muttered. "Think I just bit off a little more than I could chew." They lingered, hovering around her like a flock of birds. "I swear, I'm alright...Heat just got to me and then the kick back...I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." She managed to push herself off the ground and continued rubbing her aching shoulder. "Go on, we're out here to practice and I don't intend to ruin that." They offered her weak smiles and headed reluctantly back to their places in the lineup. Embarrassed and exhausted, Carol turned to head back to the RV.

"Hey," a voiced called out.

_Daryl?_

She turned to towards him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before staring at her shoes.

"Sure you're ok?" One hand rested on his hip and the other was pushing sweaty hair out of his face.

She nodded, unsure of what else to say. After a moment of awkward silence she turned back towards the RV but after a few steps she heard Daryl's voice call out again, "Ya hit it."

She stared at him, her blue eyes wide. "Really?"

"Yes ma'am." He bent down to retrieve the rifle from where they'd dropped it.

A faint smile spread across Carol's face and her hand closed around the cross at her neck. "Guess I just got lucky," she said softly, dropping her gaze to the ground.

"What ya talkin' bout lucky? That shot damn near knocked your ass out and that shoulder's gonna be hurtin' somethin' awful."

Carol paused before walking away and met Daryl's stare, "It was worth it." A fresh wave of heat turned her cheeks pink and she hurried off to the safety of the RV.

Daryl was left holding the rifle wondering the hell just happened..


	7. Muddy

**First of all, I just wanted to say thanks to those of you who took the time to read and review the last chapter; it was a blast to write and I am glad that people enjoyed it! I started writing this chapter while under the influence of delicious chocolate wine so please excuse any oddities. As always, thank you for your time : )**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 7: Muddy**

Daryl lay in his tent, restless, and stared hard at the ceiling. Dusk had fallen softly over the Greene farm, cutting the heat of the day. He sighed, one arm draped lazily across his forehead and the other resting on his stomach. Gun training hadn't gone as badly as he thought it would; in the end, not a single target was left standing.

_Guess they're finally gettin' their shit straight. 'Bout time they knew their way around guns. Hell; even Glenn got some decent shots in._

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering Carol.

_Woman don't have the first fuckin' clue; couldn't hardly hold the damn thing..._

His fingers flexed as he recalled the way her arms had been shaking.

_She ain't a lost cause; woman could get better with time. She hit the damn bottle anyways... Gotta learn to look after herself; ain't always gonna be somebody to hold her damn hand._

Frustrated, he sat up, pushing the thought of her from his mind. The tent was getting smaller by the minute and a surplus of energy crept like fire ants up his stiff legs. Finally admitting to himself that he needed some air, Daryl grabbed his crossbow and rose with a grunt. He unzipped the flap, stepping out of the stale confines of the tent and into the hush of the early evening. The air had cooled and felt light and fresh on his skin. A weak breeze ruffled his hair and carried with it savory smells from the farm house.

_Dinner._

Carl hurried out of the house, his right arm extended as he held the bag of guts as far away from his person as he could manage. Its slippery contents sloshed as he broke into a run and the boy choked down the bile rising in his throat. In his other hand he clutched a small shovel. By the time he reached the trees he was panting and the shovel had grown heavy. He slumped to the ground, letting the bag fall with a sickening squish. When he'd made the mistake of asking the women what he could do to help, Carl had been charged with the unfortunate task of burying the fawn's entrails. He'd contemplated dumping them in the woods but Carol warned him that the blood and odor might attract unwelcome attention. Carl had lowered his head in submission and set to ridding the house of the fawn's slimy innards.

Doing his best to ignore the smell, the young boy began pushing up dirt with the tip of his shovel. He worked fast, shoving the small spade deeper into the soft ground. The sun dipped lower in the sky and all the sounds of the evening seemed to rise out of the grass. A thousand crickets set to chirping and cicadas hummed in the sleepy trees. As he dug his hole, Carl took comfort in the thought of so much life around him... frogs, crickets, even a few lightning bugs winked at him through the purple gloom. Finally, the hole was ready and with one hand over his nose and mouth, Carl emptied the bloody sack. He turned his head away as the entrails slid out, some of them sticking to the edges of the bag. Carl gave it a good shake and the last bits of flesh plopped into the earth, followed by thick, dark drops of blood.

_ I gotta stay out of the kitchen..._

He quickly covered the stinking mess with damp earth; his desire to get back to the safety of camp growing as darkness fell quietly over the farm. With the toe of one heavy boot, Carl packed down the loose earth. Staring down at the dirt, he was reminded of Sophia's burial... of her gray, sunken face looking up at them as they'd lowered her into the ground... Loneliness hung heavily around his shoulders and he clutched the shovel tighter in his blistered hands. Before turning to go, Carl Grimes stared into the dark wood line, his pale, blue eyes narrowed; the sadness in them suddenly replaced by cold defiance. The crickets continued to chirp and a bullfrog croaked in the distance as Carl stared into the black forest and wondered what was out there.

"Dammitt!" Cried Carol, as the knife caught her fingertip. The stubby end of a carrot rolled off the counter and landed at her feet. Lori, Patricia and Beth turned to look at her.

"I'm alright... Just nicked my finger." She kept pressure on the cut as she walked to the sink. The hot water stung as she let it run over her hand.

"Quite a day you've had," said Patricia. She stood at the island in the center of the kitchen, the pile of potato peelings growing under her busy hands.

Carol sighed as she watched the stream of hot water pull blood from the cut in small, red bursts.

"How's that shoulder of yours doing?" Patricia asked as she continued to slide the peeler rapidly over other the large potatoes.

"It'll be fine," she answered softly. The place where the stock hit her was turning a nasty shade of purple and pained her whenever she moved that arm. "I've come through worse."

Lori stood opposite Patricia, on the other side of the island. She was cutting the venison into strips and glancing sideways at Carol. "You feel ok about shooting? About guns?" She asked as she slid the knife down a thick cut of meat.

Carol massaged her wounded hand beneath the hot water and closed her eyes. She remembered the weight of the rifle... the heat.. The sharp crack as the bullet ripped itself free of the barrel... and the closeness...

_Daryl..._

"I think I can handle it; it's just...new; you know?" She turned to face Lori after turning the water off. "It was good of Rick, and Shane, to take time to teach us." She sucked gently at the cut on her finger and looked down at her shoes. Carol could feel Lori's dark eyes on her face.

"Yeah; it was good of the men to help," said Lori; her eyes meeting Carol's briefly before returning to the raw meat in front of her.

Carol wasn't sure quite how to respond so she gave a slight nod before returning to the carrots.

_ What does Lori mean? Does she mean anything at all? It's not as if anything that unusual happened out there... _

The kitchen fell silent as the three women resumed their tasks and the only sound was Carol's knife slicing through thick carrots and biting down on the wooden cutting board. They worked diligently on the night's meal and Beth made her way around each of them with a broom, sweeping up various scraps and peelings.

Daryl stormed through camp, eagerly seeking an outlet, and ended up at the RV. As he approached it, T-Dog stepped out, carrying his rifle.

"Goin' on watch?" Daryl asked, his fingers clutching at the strap of his crossbow.

"Yeah. Figured I'd check the perimeter; do a walk-around."

Daryl glanced at the ground before meeting T-Dog's gaze, "Ya wantin' any help?"

T-Dog scratched the back of his head, "Sure; let's go man."

Daryl adjusted the bow to rest more comfortably on his back and the two headed out towards the fence. They stopped at the edge of the property, "Take left and I'll take right; we can circle back around and meet here?" T-Dog stared at Daryl, awaiting his reply.

Daryl turned his head to spit before answering, "Fine by me."

T-Dog nodded and began walking away, sticking close to the fence. Daryl set out in the opposite direction. After several minutes, he glanced over his right shoulder and could barely make out T-Dog's shrinking form at the opposite end of the field. His eyes refocused on the path ahead; it was getting late and he still had a ways to go.

As he walked, Daryl fought to keep away the nagging thoughts clawing at his brain.

_Focus; keep your eyes on the woods._

The hour grew later and darkness was seeping quietly out of the tree line. Alone with his thoughts, Daryl could feel them boring their way into his brain.

_Why'd I even bother? She ain't my problem…_ _Ain't like she asked for my help neither…_

Daryl grappled with the questions in silence, making his way further down the field. One hand ran through his brown hair while the other skimmed over the top of the fence, feeling the rough texture. More unwelcome questions lingered in the air around him and he snorted in aggravation.

_Fuck!_

He snatched his right hand away from the fence, a large splinter having firmly lodged itself in the meat of his palm.

_Christ_.

He raised the wounded hand to his face and sucked the blood. Leaning against the fence, he squinted and tried to make out the splinter in the dark. It was no use; he'd have to get it looked at when he got back. He shook the wounded hand before balling it into a fist and then relaxing it again.

_ Serves you right, dumbass. Dragin' your hand across some damn pla-_

Daryl's thoughts were interrupted by a strange sound… He spun around to face the woods and peered into the blackness, waiting. He held his breath, eyes narrowed, and focused on the trees…

_There it is again…_

The soft crunching of dead leaves underfoot… He dipped his right shoulder, catching his bow as the strap slid off. He winced as his injured hand closed around the stock. With a grunt, he hoisted himself over the fence and advanced slowly towards the trees, his practiced footsteps muffled by the damp grass. As Daryl stepped into the wood line, he was completely enveloped by the thick darkness. He paused after every few steps and strained to catch the sound again.

_Where you hidin'?_

His mouth was pressed into a hard line as he made his way deeper into the forest. The sound was getting louder… leaves crackling beneath an unseen trespasser… But there was something strange about the noise…

_Footsteps ain't even. _

He tightened his grip on the bow and crouched behind a small tree. It was getting closer… Daryl let his breath seep out slowly and felt the tension coiling tighter in his chest. Snapping, cracking, crunching…

_It's close now…_

Daryl could smell it before he saw it; rotten, festering flesh riddled with corruption… The odor was sickening, overpowering, and he'd never quite gotten used to it; none of them ever would. He clenched his teeth as he waited for the thing to stumble past his hiding place.

Through the gloom, he could barely make out the wasted form of the walker. Skinny arms hung limply at its sides and a few strands of tangled hair clung to its scalp. With effort, it lifted one mangled foot from the forest floor and placed it in front of the other, stumbling awkwardly. Daryl's finger was poised over the trigger…

_ C'mon you son of a bitch._

The creature paused and smelled the air, its broken teeth gnashing hungrily. Suddenly, it jerked itself around to face Daryl, pale, dead eyes resting on the man beneath the tree. Its pace quickened and a rasping growl escaped its withered lips. Spindly arms rose and stiff fingers began to flex as the walker advanced towards its prey. Daryl bit the inside of his cheek and kept his nerve as the thing got closer.

_C'mon…_

The walker moaned loudly as it crouched to reach Daryl, arms flailing in the dark… Just as it opened its ruined mouth and lunged for him, Daryl squeezed the trigger, sending an arrow through its left eye. The tip erupted from the back of the creature's skull, sending bits of soft, putrid gore splattering on the dead leaves below. The walker staggered before falling backwards and landing with a thud on the hard ground.

Daryl rose silently and approached the body. He gave it a swift kick with his boot but there was no response. Satisfied, he reached down to pull his arrow from the walker's sunken face. There was a sucking noise as Daryl jerked the arrow free and thick, dark blood oozed slowly from the eye socket. As he stared down at the walker he'd killed, more images of death forced their way into his mind…

_The barn… All them people comin' at us growlin' an' hissin'… The fuck was he keepin' 'em for?_

Daryl stomped angrily, circling the body.

_Why didn't he say somethin'? Hell, he knew we was all lookin' for her… He knew!_

His hands were behind his head and his eyes were closed.

_He knew we was… Why'd she have to be in there? Carol never shoulda seen that shit. Her girl dyin' like that… I shoulda pulled her away… Carol ain't got no one… but it ain't my fault! I tried for Christ's sake! I tried!_

His anger spilled over as he kicked the walker hard in the ribs, hearing several crack under the impact.

He looked down, and it was Sophia's small frame that lay sprawled across the leaves.

_The hell!?_

Daryl lost his balance and fell back against the tree. His breathing had grown heavy and he slumped down to the ground in shock. He dug his hands into the cool earth and felt the dirt under his fingernails.

_Ain't her…_

He blinked hard, refocusing his eyes in the dark. As he stared, the blonde locks fell away, the small face he'd known was replaced by that of a grisly stranger and then she was gone…

_Fuckin' ain't her!_

Fury coursing through him, he pushed himself off the ground and delivered another swift kick to the broken body. He heard the sharp crunch as more ribs snapped under the force. "Ya like that?!" He yelled as he continued to kick the lifeless walker. Sweat had begun to form at his temples and in one final act of release he raised a leg and suspended it over the walker's chest. "Fuckin' ain't my fault!" his angry cry rang through the woods as his boot came down hard, the dead flesh giving way beneath his heel. There was a squishing sound as Daryl tore his foot free from the wreckage of the walker's chest; he drug his boot across the forest floor, ridding himself of as much of the slime and gore as he could. He stood with his hands on his hips, and tried to steady his breathing. The evening air was cool against his burning skin as he knelt to retrieve his bow and finally turned back towards the fence.

His mind was still reeling as the trees began to thin and the fields came into view. Lost in his own thoughts, Daryl didn't notice T-Dog until the man was in front of him.

"Hey," T-Dog whispered, "You alright?" He extended an arm towards Daryl's shoulder but the hunter slapped it angrily aside.

He hadn't even seen T-Dog approach him and wasn't entirely sure when he'd cleared the wood line and made it to the fence. His eyes darted wildly from T-Dog, to the farm house and then back to the forest he'd just come from.

"Hey man," T-Dog inched closer to Daryl, trying to meet his gaze, "I said are you alright?"

Daryl stared at him, unable to comprehend the question.

"I heard you yell out there; everything ok?" His eyes were earnest as they roamed over Daryl, searching for scratches or bites.

A stiff nod was all that Daryl could manage and the two men made their way back towards the house. They walked in silence, T-Dog occasionally glancing sideways at Daryl.

"What ya starin' at?" Daryl snarled.

"Nothin' man. It's just tha-"

"Spit it out," Daryl interrupted.

T-Dog scratched his chin before responding, "Just seemed like you were out of it back there… like you were gone for a minute."

Daryl let his gaze fall to the ground; he could still make out the bits of gore that clung to his boot. "Took out a walker." It was the only answer that Daryl was prepared to give.

T-Dog nodded. He considered mentioning to Daryl that he'd heard him yelling about something not being his fault, but he held his tongue. "Alright man, just askin' 'cause we already got folks ain't actin' right and last thing we need is more people ridin' the damn crazy train."

Daryl knew that T-Dog was thinking of Shane… The man hadn't been right for weeks.

"I'm fine. Just got shit on my mind." Daryl spat.

"Don't we all?" T-Dog looked at Daryl and the two locked eyes for a moment. "We just gotta try and keep it all straight. But hey, the girls been in the kitchen for hours now workin' on that deer….bet It's lookin' real good right about now."

Daryl sighed, "Yeah."

"Come on man, if a good dinner don't get your head straight then ain't no hope for you." T-Dog laughed and clapped Daryl on the back.

The hunter bristled at the contact but had to agree. They didn't get real dinners very often… Maybe it would help.

The closer they got to the house the hungrier they became. The smells from the kitchen drifted through the screen door, beckoning them, an invitation…

T-Dog stopped about fifty yards from the porch. "Gotta head to the RV and put my piece up; can't be havin' that in the house." With that, he turned towards camp, leaving Daryl alone.

The hunter stood awkwardly in front of the house, unsure of what to do. He hadn't made a habit of spending too much time there since Herschel had tended to his wounds. He'd been a difficult patient and figured that it was best if he and the farmer steered clear of each other. His fingers clutched at the crossbow strap as he stared at the house and then back at the campsite. As he turned to head back towards his tent, a small figure approached him.

_Carl._

"Hey Daryl," the boy said, a shovel in his hand.

Daryl grunted and continued walking to the tents.

"Aren't you coming to eat?"

The hunter considered the words, "Maybe later." Without turning to face Carl he unzipped the flap of his tent and stepped inside.

The boy lingered for a moment. "Mom 'n them have been working pretty hard on dinner… I think they'd like it if everyone was together."

Daryl shrugged the bow off his shoulder and collapsed onto the musty pile of blankets he called a bed. "Ya oughta get back to the house; the women are gonna be drivin' themselves crazy lookin' for ya. Go on."

Without a word, Carl ran from the tent.

Daryl rolled onto his back and sighed.

_Damn kid. T-Dog, Carol… Can't get a moment's peace in this place_.

He'd eat later. Best not to darken the dinner table with all the shit he had in his head.

Carl ran up the wide porch steps, dropping his shovel before he reached the screen door. Lori stepped into the living room when she heard the door squeak and saw her son. "Honey; you are not comin' to the table like that. Get those boots off and go wash up in the bathroom. Dinner's about done." With a scowl, Carl kicked his boots off and headed for the washroom.

Lori walked back to the kitchen, rolling her eyes. She reached over Carol to pull clean plates from the cupboard and sighed.

"Something wrong?" Carol asked as she pulled a pot of vegetables from the stove.

"My son just waltzed in here, boots covered in mud, just head to toe filthy…" She shook her head as she carried the plates to the dining table. "I swear he had more dirt on him than Daryl."

Carol's breath caught in her throat as she set the pot down on the table. She had become so wrapped up in cooking that she'd forgotten about the gun training. About the feeling of his eyes moving over her…

_ His smell…_

"You alright?" Lori's voice broke through the fog, startling Carol.

"Hm?" She answered, glancing up at the other woman.

"I think you've got it," Lori said, gesturing at the linen napkin beneath Carol's fingers.

"Oh. You're right." Carol had been smoothing the napkin for a full minute during her rumination. A slight flush crept across her face and Lori eyed her strangely before heading back to the kitchen for more plates.

Patricia and Beth joined Carol in the dining room and began to place silverware beside each plate. Beth smiled as she laid the down the last fork, "Table looks really nice; I think he's gonna like it."

Carol hugged herself, unsure whether or not Beth was addressing her. "What's that sweetheart?" She nervously rubbed at the sore spot on her shoulder.

Beth looked at her with bright, blue eyes. "Daddy. I was just thinkin' how he's gonna love seein' the table like this. Set for a proper family dinner."

"Oh," said Carol, "I'm sure he will." She smiled sweetly at the young woman before heading to the kitchen for glasses.

_You're being foolish; now stop._

She chewed her bottom lip as Lori handed her several tall glasses. Beth was right; it would be nice for all of them to sit around the table together and have a decent meal.

_All of us… Will he even come? What does it matter; just stop this._

She shook her head as she made her way back to the dining table.

Carl, face and hands scrubbed pink, wandered into the kitchen looking for his mother. "Better?" he asked as he stood in front of her for inspection.

"Yes." She bent to kiss his forehead. "Now see if you can get everyone in here while the food's still hot."

The boy nodded and headed to the porch. He leaned out of the screen door and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell, "Dinner! Everybody in here!"

Gradually, the others began to emerge. Rick hurried up the steps and snatched the Stetson off his son's head, "No hats at the table." Carl smiled and followed his father inside.

Glenn and Maggie came in, hand in hand. They looked a little flushed and there was no accounting for where they'd been since gun training ended. Carol sighed as they walked past her, giggling, and took their places at the table. Herschel came downstairs, smiling as he saw the table and the guests already seated around it. "This looks lovely. Thank you," he said nodding to Carol, Lori, Patricia and Beth. He took his place at the head of the table.

Carol and Lori continued to bring food from the kitchen. "I don't think we're all gonna fit," said Lori as she set a pitcher of water down in front of Herschel.

"There's a small table in the livin' room we can use. Have Jimmy and Glenn bring it in here."

Lori called up the stairs to Jimmy and Glenn headed to the living room to help. T-Dog came in just as the boys were lifting the table; he gave them a hand as they carried it into the dining room. Patricia and Beth worked to move some of the place settings to the second table.

A moment later Andrea came in, hesitating in the living room. "Anything I can do to help?" Her hands slid into her back pockets and she rocked on her heels.

Lori regarded her for a moment before answering. "Chairs; help me bring some of these chairs into the dining room. Not enough room for everyone to be at one table." Lori grabbed a chair and motioned for Andrea to grab another. While she had not always been on the best of terms with the blonde woman, she _was_ offering to help and this night was about all of them being together. The two women passed Carol in the kitchen as they made their way to the dining room.

"Think we're about ready Carol," Lori called from the other room.

"Shane's taking watch," added Andrea.

"Okay; be right there," Carol answered.

The two tables had become crowded and everyone was eager to try the venison. Whether it had been intentional or not, the second table had become a "kid's" table. Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Jimmy and Carl crowded around it much to the amusement of Rick and Herschel. Lori peeked into the kitchen and saw Carol leaning over the sink.

Rick laid a hand on his wife's shoulder, making her jump.

"What is it?" He asked softly, as they stood just to the right of the doorway.

"Carol. She just seems upset."

"Well she had a rough time during trainin'. That shoulder's probably givin' her trouble," said Rick.

"I know." Lori sighed as she rubbed her husband's hand. "I just thought this, the dinner, would be good for her; you know? Cheer her up."

Rick looked past his wife at Carol. She stood in front of the sink, letting the water run as she stared out the window at something none of them could see. "I think I can help; gimme a second." He gave Lori's shoulder a squeeze before walking to the kid's table.

Lori watched as her husband dropped to one knee and whispered something in Carl's ear. The boy rose from his seat and made his way through the kitchen before disappearing out the screen door. As Rick stood up, his eyes met Lori's. He crossed the room and stood beside his wife, "Don't worry, he'll be right back; let's sit down." Still somewhat confused, Lori took her place at the table beside her husband.

Carol shut of the water and sighed.

_Enough stalling; sounds like they're getting antsy in there._

She pulled the oven door open, a wave of heat stinging her eyes. She grabbed some rags from beside the sink and used them to grip the handles of the large pot that contained the venison. The meat looked and smelled delicious; a small smile appeared then quickly faded on her lips; under different circumstances, she might have felt a sense of pride bringing such good food to the table… but now? It seemed, empty somehow.

Carl stood outside Daryl's tent, the words his father had told him repeating in his head.

"Hey," he called out nervously, fearing how Daryl might react to the disturbance.

"What now?" Daryl snapped.

Carl hesitated, his faith in his father's plan wavering. "Dinner's ready and I think you should come eat with us."

"Told ya I'd eat later. Ain't gotta tell me when to eat, now git."

Carl kicked at the dirt in frustration and groaned before finally continuing, "It's upsetting Carol that you're not in there."

Daryl sat up in the tent. His anger flared as he moved forward and unzipped the flap. "Why the hell would I care if she's upset?" He snarled, staring hard at the boy, trying to read his face.

Carl slowly backed away from the tent, "I don't know, but she is, so…"

Daryl glared at him and the boy gave it up, turning tail and running back up the porch steps.

_Christ_.

He ran a calloused hand over his face as he realized that they weren't going to let this go. The women got it into their heads that that they were going to have a big dinner and damned if they weren't roping everyone into it.

_Fine_.

Carl returned to the kid's table and took his place. His father caught his eye across the room and raised an eyebrow. Carl shook his head and stared down at his plate. Lori saw the exchange and gave her husband a questioning look.

"Wait for it," he said quietly as he took the pitcher and poured himself a glass of water.

Lori narrowed her eyes at him but he only smiled and passed her the pitcher.

In the kitchen, Carol struggled with the weight of the pot she'd taken from the oven. The heat was seeping through the towels she's used to grip it and her hands were beginning to burn as she slowly made her way to the dining room. She gritted her teeth, thinking she might drop it…

_Good lord this thing weighs more than I thought!_

Just before she reached the dining room, the screen door squeaked and heavy footsteps fell across the wooden floors.

"Lemme help ya."

Carol was so startled that she very nearly dropped the thing. She didn't know what to say and simply stood there staring as Daryl carefully took the pot from her hands.

"Go on; I got it." He motioned for her to head into the dining room.

She did so, and tried to appear normal, giving the others a soft smile as she took a seat near the far end of the table. Carl's eyes widened as he saw Daryl come in after her. The hunter shot him a dirty look and the smile quickly died on Carl's lips. Lori stared at her husband in disbelief and put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. Rick simply rose to take the pot from Daryl and set it in the center of the table. "Nice of you to join us."

Daryl nodded and made his way to the far end of the table to sit across from Carol. T-Dog sat to his left.

"Hey, you made it man. I'm tellin' you this dinner; it's gonna get your head straight, make things clear," said T-Dog as he laughed and passed Daryl the carrots.

Daryl silently scooped several of the colorful veggies onto his plate and tried to ignore the fact that he felt like a damn fool for giving in. When he finished, he looked up and caught Carol's eyes. She quickly looked away but he could see the hint of a smile on her face.

_Damn woman just wants someone to look after. She oughta be helpin' Lori keep an eye on that brat of hers…_

As he stared down at his plate, he could feel her watching him and color crept to his face. He ran a hand loosely through his tangled hair and thought about T-Dog's words…

_This'll get my head clear… Clear as fuckin' mud._


	8. Talking

**Hopefully, the ending of the last chapter wasn't too fluffy : ) It was challenging to create scenes in which all, or most of the characters are together, but I enjoyed it! I was debating on whether or not to pick this chapter up on the morning after the dinner or to dive back in to where we left everyone at the table. Let me know what you think and as always, thank you so much for reading : )**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 8: Talking**

Words flew past him, over him, buzzing in his ear like damn gnats. He chewed slowly and wondered what it was about food that made everyone talk so much. The dining room filled up with more words, laughter, noise... Daryl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and began regretting his decision to eat in the house.

Carol's eyes roamed restlessly over everyone and everything as she struggled to avoid the man seated across from her. Despite her efforts, she couldn't help but notice him. Sullen, silent... He was rigid in his chair, eyes trained on the plate in front of him. Head lowered and shoulders hunched, he seemed desperate to disappear. Carol frowned, tearing her gaze away from him and focusing instead on the napkin in her lap.

_How is it that in a room full of people he still manages to isolate himself? Why?_

She began balling the napkin up in her fist.

"Carol," a voice called from the far end of the table. It was Lori's.

"Hmm?" Carol's head shot up in surprise.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for all your help with dinner."

"Yes, thank you," Patricia added.

Carol lowered her gaze, "Glad to help." A weak smile graced her lips before fading quickly. She shifted awkwardly in her seat as she tried to recall whether anyone had ever thanked her for a meal. The venison lay untouched on her plate and she pushed a small potato around with her fork. There was an unpleasant sensation as her stomach roiled; her entire being was already so full of worry, doubt and fresh memories of the gun training that there didn't seem to be any room for food. But she couldn't _not_ eat... He'd gone through the trouble to catch it after all... It was _his_ contribution. Hesitantly, she jabbed a piece of meat with her fork and lifted it to her lips.

"So," Lori stared across the table at her husband, "What was that about?" She gestured with her fork to Carl and then to Daryl and Carol at the end of the table.

Rick sipped his water before answering with a lowered voice, "I'm not gonna pretend to know what the deal is there. But what I _do_ know is that she's better when he's around; plain and simple."

Lori shot one last glance down the long table before cutting another piece of meat, "Well, then I guess it's a good thing he showed."

Rick shrugged, giving his wife a small smile before returning his attention to the carrots on his plate.

Carol chewed slowly and tried to decide whether or not she was going to be sick. The meat was tender, juicy, flavorful and the more she thought about it the more her stomach muscles clenched in revolt. Her gut had been in knots before she'd even sat down and now she was at the table, across from him... She continued chewing, mechanically, as nerves clawed at her insides.

_I need to get out of here..._

She brought one clammy hand to her mouth as she fought to choke down the food.

_You're being ridiculous; you need to eat._

Sighing, she gripped her knife and moved to cut another small piece of venison. As the blade sank into the soft meat, her eyes drifted across the table to Daryl. He laid down his silverware and was slowly opening and closing his left hand, the calloused fingers flexing stiffly. The knife hovered over her plate as she watched Daryl's eyes narrow; he was looking down at his hand, rubbing it gently. Her lips parted slightly as she continued to stare...

_Did he hurt himself? What's on his ha-_

The thought was interrupted as Daryl hissed, stifling what would surely have been a horrific stream of obscenities.

Startled, Carol dropped her knife which clanged against the edge of her plate before bouncing off the table and skidding across the floor. Silence fell over the room as the others turned their attention to the far end of the table.

_Great..._

Carol closed her eyes in frustration. Without a word, she slid from her seat and knelt to collect the knife. As her fingers closed around the cold metal, Carol paused, sighing deeply before standing and returning to her seat. With a soft smile, she held up the utensil for everyone to see. A few of them returned her smile and the sounds of mealtime began filling up the room once more.

She rubbed anxiously at the nape of her neck as she contemplated finishing the meal in front of her. Her shoulders drooped as she realized that the food would go uneaten.

_ Could always save it for later..._

She brought a glass of water to her lips for a small sip; as she peered over the edge of the cup, her gaze met Daryl's. Cold, and dark, his blue eyes studied her and she felt the water freeze in her throat. A weak cough escaped her and she quickly dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before setting the glass down on the table. He still held his left hand, his thumb moving in slow circles over the palm. She was trapped. She wanted desperately to look away, to fade in front of him but something in his stare demanded attention. Struggling with the feeling of his eyes on her, she finally steeled herself and spoke.

"What?"

She hoped that the question held more aggravation than nervousness as she toyed with her fork and waited for his reply. His face was unreadable and his gaze remained fixed on her even as she sought refuge in the untouched vegetables on her plate.

"Ya alright?"

The question was so unexpected that Carol had to look at him again; her head tilted slightly and her brows knit together in confusion.

"Yes; I'm fine."

An awkward silence filled the space between them as he dropped his gaze to his hand and continued rubbing it. Carol pushed the fork around her plate, listening to the soft scraping sound of the tines...

_Just leave it at that._

But she knew she couldn't. She wasn't like him... Aloof, indifferent... that just wasn't her...

"How 'bout you?" Her eyes flicked back to his face, expectant. She laid the fork on her napkin and brought her hands to rest under her chin.

"Fine," he bit out, refusing to look at her.

She sighed. "What's that?" Carol's gaze returned to his hand.

"Ain't nothin'."

She arched an eyebrow before extending a hand across the table to reach for his own, "Let me see."

He pulled away, hands disappearing from the table as they dropped into his lap.

Carol rolled her eyes, her mouth set into a hard line, "Come on; let me look."

Reluctantly, Daryl lifted his left hand and laid it on the table, his wounded palm facing up. He stared at the ceiling as Carol's hands reached across the table.

"Relax," she said as she noticed him shifting in his chair.

Daryl merely grunted in response as he lost interest in the ceiling and turned instead to look out the nearest window. Her fingertips found his own and moved softly over his skin. His hand twitched at the contact and he fought the urge to jerk away from her. But she was careful, barely grazing the rough skin as she traced lines on his palm. Carol was leaning across the table now, bent over his hand. Her thumb passed gently over the red, swollen spot in the center of his palm and he winced; his fingers curling back instinctively. Carol quickly withdrew her hands and looked at him.

"I can get it out," she said.

"Ain't ya gonna eat?"

She hesitated, hugging herself as she stared down at the plate, "Think I'm going to finish later."

Daryl nodded but didn't speak. He continued to open and close the injured hand that lay on the table.

Carol pushed her seat back and stood, "Come to the kitchen and I'll take care of that for you." She glanced quickly at his hand before grabbing her plate and turning to face the kitchen. Without waiting for an answer, Carol left with her plate. Daryl frowned, scratching his chin with his good hand. He knew he'd need to dig the damn thing out sooner or later...

_Better her than Herschel..._

With that thought, he stood and collected his dishes. He rounded the end of the table and walked into the kitchen after Carol.

She stood in front of the sink holding a white rag under a stream of hot water, steam rose up around her, clouding the window pane. Daryl approached her and placed his dishes carefully on the counter. She turned off the water and began to wring out the rag.

"I'll be back; gotta grab some things." She squeezed the last drops of water from the cloth before handing it to Daryl. "Press that to your palm, it'll help relax the muscles in your hand."

Daryl took the rag and held it over the wound. The pressure hurt at first but the pain began to subside as waves of heat radiated over his palm. He stood alone in the kitchen and waited for Carol to return.

She made her way through the living room and down a long hallway. When she reached the end of the hall, she stood in front of the guest room that Daryl and Carl had stayed in after their injuries. Her hand trembled as she turned the glass knob and pushed the door open. She hadn't set foot in the room since the night she visited Daryl. Carol paused in the doorway, hugging herself tighter as she remembered the way he'd looked... lying there...

The sharp smell of peroxide stung her nose as she entered, carrying a tray of food. Daryl lay in bed, on his side. He propped himself up on one elbow and turned to face her.

"Shit," he muttered when he realized who his visitor was.

Carol allowed herself to laugh as she recalled the way he'd snatched up the sheets in haste to cover himself when he saw it was her.

"Brought you something." She placed the tray carefully on the bedside table and looked him over, her eyes resting on the cloth that bound his head. "How are you holding up?" She sat on the edge of the bed and he inched away.

"Been better," he answered, refusing to look at her.

Accepting that she wasn't going to get much out of the man, Carol rose to leave. "I just wanted to thank you...for everything you did today."

Daryl grumbled, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, his back to her.

Before leaving, Carol bent over him and placed a small kiss on the top of his head. He flinched at the contact, "Watch it; I got stitches."

Carol gave him a small smile before walking away and closing the door gently behind her...

The memory made her shiver as she stood in the empty room.

_I almo- We almost lost him..._

She moved to the bedside table and pulled the drawer open.

_Cotton balls...alcohol...gauze_

Her hands continued to search the drawer until she found the desired objects; tweezers and a scalpel...just in case. Satisfied with her supplies, Carol bundled them in her arms and headed back to the kitchen. She found Daryl where she'd left him, leaning against the counter with the cloth on his wound. Carol set her things on the large island and motioned for him to join her. He walked slowly to the opposite side of the island and stared at the supplies she had laid out. His eyes landed on the shining scalpel and he flashed carol a dirty look.

"We might not need it... just depends how deep it is." She unscrewed the top from the alcohol bottle.

Daryl nodded, focusing on the soothing heat in his hand.

Carol pressed a cotton ball to the mouth of the alcohol bottle and turned it upside down. "Alright; let me see." She beckoned for Daryl to extend the wounded hand. He hesitated, flexing his fingers before he finally leaned across the table and let the back of his hand rest against the smooth wood of the island.

"It'll sting, but keep still." Carol touched the alcohol laden cotton ball to the angry, red spot, her other hand gripping Daryl's wrist to keep him from pulling away.

"Lord!" Daryl looked away and clenched his teeth as the burning sensation tore through the ragged edges of the cut. In an instant, cool air was chasing the fire from his hand. He turned to see Carol, bent low over his palm... She blew gently over the wound, her breath easing the bite of the alcohol.

"It's alright." She removed the cotton ball and set it aside. "Last thing you need is an infection." Carol chuckled as she reached for the tweezers.

"The hell you laughin' at?" Daryl focused on the tweezers, his hand twitching as she held them over his palm.

She paused, blue eyes looking up at him. "Just the thought of you, of any of us, surviving all this only to be done in by an infection...from a splinter." She shook her head.

Daryl felt the corner of his mouth curl up in his version of a smile.

"Okay, I'm going to apply some pressure and see if I can ease it out, then I can grab it with the tweezers. Don't move." Her grip tightened on his wrist.

He stiffened as she laid down the small tool and pressed two fingers to the wound. "Easy," she whispered as she continued to move her fingers, pushing the sliver of wood up through the raw flesh.

"Christ!" He muttered as he felt the rough edges of the splinter tearing at him.

Carol cast a nervous glance at his face, hating the pain she saw there. Guilt clouded her features as she struggled to be as gentle as possible. She applied just enough pressure to move the splinter forward, the broken tip finally protruding from his swollen palm. "Alright; I think I can get it now," she said as she reached for the tweezers.

Daryl looked down at her, his muscles tensing as she lowered the tweezers to his palm. Carol could sense the anxiety, he wanted to pull away but she held him there. Her fingers remained locked around his wrist and without thinking she began to move her thumb over his skin in slow circles.

She held the tweezers at an angle and carefully gripped the tip of the splinter. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the feeling of her thumb rubbing his wrist. "Okay," she breathed, "One; two...three." She gave the tweezers a good tug and dislodged the splinter. Daryl bit the inside of his cheek as the shard of wood caught his skin on its way out. Carol held it up for him to see, "Almost an inch long... if you'd left that in there it could have gotten nasty."

He stared at the glistening splinter in disgust before dropping his gaze to his hand. Blood was seeping out of the gash and pooling in the center of his palm. Carol released his wrist, set down the tweezers and grabbed the gauze. She tore off a strip with her teeth and held it to the wound, soaking up the blood. "It'll stop in a minute." She focused on her task and tried to ignore the fact that she was holding his hand. A red spot grew on the gauze as the seconds ticked by. Neither spoke.

After a minute had passed, Carol lifted the scrap of cloth from his hand and saw that the bleeding had stopped. "That's better," she said as she walked to the trash can and deposited the soiled cloth and cotton ball. Daryl slowly opened and closed his hand, most of the pain had subsided when Carol removed the splinter.

Carol returned to the island, her elbows resting on the smooth surface, "Better?"

Daryl nodded as he straightened up and took a step back from the island.

"Hang on; don't go anywhere." She grabbed the gauze and walked around to stand beside him. "We should bind that till it's healed."

He stared hard at her as she reached for the hand that had dropped to his side.

_Why does she worry so damn much about everybody else?_

She began wrapping the soft gauze around his hand, careful to avoid pressing the wound. "Keep this on, and keep it clean...if you can." She gave him a quick smile and continued winding the cloth.

Daryl ran his free hand through his dark hair and stared at the ground. Her fingers were so soft as they moved over his skin; she worked quickly and quietly, letting a comfortable silence fill the air.

When she finished, Daryl lifted his hand to admire the binding.

"That should do it for now, just try to be a little more careful okay?" She left his side and returned to the opposite side of the island to gather the supplies. "Just gonna run these back to the guest room," she started heading towards the living room.

"Thanks," said Daryl.

Carol turned to face him, surprise written plainly on her face.

"You're welcome Daryl."

She bit her lower lip and stood awkwardly at the entrance to the living room.

Daryl scratched the back of his head and gazed out the window, "Ya didn't have to." His words hung heavy in the air and he continued to flex his fingers.

Carol was at a loss. She held the supplies tighter against her chest and stared at her shoes. "It's no trouble," she said softly, color rising to her cheeks.

The two lingered in the dimly lit kitchen, neither sure what to do or say. Finally, Carol turned away and walked through the living room to the hall. Her mind raced as she placed the supplies back in the small drawer and pushed it shut.

_Why did I do that? He can take care of himself... He doesn't need a nurse. I didn't need to bind the damn thing for him..._

When she walked back into the kitchen she was surprised to see Daryl, his back against the counter. Her eyes met his and she froze, brows knitting together as she tried to ascertain why he'd stayed. In response, he cast a glance at their plates beside the sink. "Ya oughtta finish eatin'."

Cautiously, she approached the sink and stood beside him. "Yeah? And what about you?" Several strips of venison still lay untouched on his plate.

"Fine." He growled, "Gimme that."

She handed him his plate.

"Wanna head back to the table?" She asked, grabbing her own plate and moving towards the dining room.

"Nah; too much damn talkin' out there, can't hear myself think." He stabbed a piece of meat with his fork and chewed slowly.

Carol smiled and walked back to his side. "You doing some deep thinking?" She plucked a carrot off her plate with her fingers and popped it into her mouth.

He rolled his eyes and swallowed. "Well now," he paused to jab at another piece of venison, "I'm thinkin' I shouldn't have let ya doctor me with them dirty hands.

Carol covered her mouth as a laugh escaped her lips.

"A little dirt never hurt anybody, or didn't you know?" She shot him a sideways glance before picking up a piece of potato.

Daryl snorted and shook his head. The two stood side by side in the dark kitchen, their backs against the sink. When T-Dog rounded the corner with his dishes, he was surprised to see them. "Hey, where'd ya'll go?" He strode to the sink and deposited his dishes. Carol and Daryl moved farther apart as T-Dog stood between them, looking from one to the other.

"I was helping Daryl with something," said Carol between mouthfuls. She gestured to Daryl's bandaged hand.

"Oh, alright. And just decided to eat in here after?" T-Dog eyed the plates they held.

Daryl was silent and stared hard at the ground.

Carol did not have an answer, she looked at Daryl but found no help there; her lips parted but before she could speak T-Dog interjected. "Naw, that's alright. I see how it is; ya'll too good to eat with _us._" He chuckled before returning to the dining room.

Carol sidled closer to Daryl and tried to think of something to say that could break the now awkward silence. She tore off a piece of venison and chewed. Daryl caught a carrot on his tines and lifted it to his mouth. "You know something?" She smiled in the dark.

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow as he chewed.

"This might be the best dinner I've ever had." She felt the freckles on the bridge of her nose burning and hoped he couldn't see the rosy color on her cheeks.

_What are you doing?! Just stop talking..._

Daryl smirked and turned away from her. The two chewed in silence for a moment as Carol wished that she could take back those last few words.

"Well," he sucked the grease from his fingers and wiped his hands on his jeans, "We had a pretty good cook." With that, he laid his empty plate carefully down in the sink and strode from the kitchen. Carol heard the screen door squeak and slam shut behind him. She stood frozen in the kitchen where he'd left her, lips parted, eyes wide.


	9. Split

**Thank you for the reviews! I am glad to hear that you all enjoyed the awkwardness : ) It's nice to be able to show how vulnerable they both are, and hopefully that makes them more relatable. This chapter moves away from fluff and gets back to the serious nature of their relationship; as always, I am trying very hard to keep this realistic and in character for everyone. I've been thinking about how long this story should go on and I came to a decision...I'll stop writing when it stops being fun! Enjoy and thank you for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 9: Split**

Carol sat up suddenly, sheets clutched tightly in her sweaty palms. She was breathing hard as she pulled her knees to her chest and shivered.

_Sophia..._

Images from her nightmare lingered in the small room... Awful... Unwelcome...

_Everywhere..._

She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed herself against the back wall. Her heart slammed itself against her ribs as the sound of gunshots echoed in her skull.

"It's over... It's done," She whispered, hugging her knees tightly.

As her eyes eased open, Carol peered through the pre-dawn gloom and saw the phantoms fade... They melted into shadows and seeped quietly through the floor. She lifted a shaking hand to her forehead and wiped away the sweat that had collected there. Alone in the RV, Carol let hot, angry tears fall and longed for someone, something...anything to hold.

Daryl lay on his side, a dingy sheet tangled between his legs. The first few rays of sunlight slanted through the tent window, falling across his face. He blinked before rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his fists. As he pushed himself upright, he felt a dull throb in the center of his left hand.

_Jesus._

His tired eyes narrowed and he noticed the white bandage. He brought the hand closer to his face; there was a small spot of red where some blood had soaked through. He frowned and flexed his fingers before a yawn escaped him. As he stood and stretched, Daryl had a sudden realization.

_Shit._

His palms were pressed against his lower back as he tried to crack his spine. He hissed as the conversation he and Carol had had in the kitchen came back to him in bits and pieces.

_pretty good cook... The hell did ya go an' say that for?_

He kicked absently at the blankets littering the ground and reminded himself that there was a good reason for keeping his mouth shut all the damn time.

"Daryl?" Rick's voice called just outside the tent.

Grateful for the interruption, Daryl moved to the flap and unzipped it. "Yeah?"

"I was talkin' with Hershel and he says we're runnin' low on medical supplies."

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck as another yawn escaped him.

"After what happened with Carl and you, I really think we should be stockin' up."

"You thinkin' about makin' a run?" Daryl crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yeah; you, me, 'n Glenn."

"When?"

"After breakfast; soon as everyone's ready." Rick gazed quickly around the camp.

Daryl nodded. "Alright; ya know where to find me."

Rick laid a hand on the hunter's shoulder before turning away. "Get yourself fed; Maggie 'n Patricia have eggs in the kitchen," the deputy called over his shoulder as he strode back to his own tent.

Daryl zipped the flap behind him and began making his way towards the house. He ran a hand through his hair as he climbed the porch steps, doing his best to smooth the parts that stuck up from sleep. Beth heard his heavy boots on the steps and held the screen door open for him; he bowed his head as he passed her.

"Mornin'," she smiled at him.

He nodded, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"You can go on into the kitchen and get some breakfast if you like; there's plenty." The girl gave him another smile before disappearing out the door.

He stood awkwardly in the living room for a moment before following the smell of fried eggs to the kitchen. T-Dog and Glenn stood at the island, holding plates. "Mornin'," said Patricia when she saw Daryl join them.

"Mornin'," Daryl answered, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Let me fix you a plate," said Maggie as she slid two eggs out of the frying pan and onto a clean dish.

Daryl waited, leaning against the island.

"You coming on the run?" Glenn asked.

The hunter turned to face him, "Yeah."

"Good. Should be easy; same pharmacy I went to with Maggie not too long ago. We'll just fill our bags; in and out."

_Is he tryin' to convince me or himself?_

"Walkers?" Daryl asked, arching an eyebrow.

Glenn swallowed, "Just the one that we saw." He shot a quick glance at Maggie.

Daryl nodded.

"Still; ya'll watch your backs out there," added T-Dog as he took a sip of water.

"Why ain't ya goin'?" Daryl drew his hands from his pockets and let them rest on the table.

T-Dog leaned across and lowered his voice, "Rick wants somebody to keep an eye on Shane; man ain't been right for weeks."

It was true; The idea of Shane having the run of the place with the rest of them out didn't sit well with Daryl.

"Good luck with that mess," Daryl said under his breath.

T-Dog frowned, his eyes going to Daryl's bandaged hand. "Carol take good care of you last night?"

Daryl glared across the island as Maggie set a plate down in front of him, her eyes darting from his face to T-Dog's to Glenn's. Glenn shrugged his shoulders and Maggie walked back to the stove without a word.

"Hand's fine," Daryl bit out, as he withdrew it from the table and let it fall to his side.

Silence hung heavily over the island and Glenn looked from one man to the other trying but failing to understand the problem. Desperate to ease the tension, Glenn cleared his throat, "I think the eggs are gonna get cold," he gestured towards Daryl's plate.

Remembering the food in front of him, Daryl refocused and began to cut his eggs. The three men ate quietly, keeping their eyes on their plates. Maggie cracked two more eggs over her pan; popping grease was the only sound in the room.

A soft tapping at the door startled Carol; she'd been standing in the cramped RV bathroom, staring at her reflection in the spotted mirror. She quickly wiped at her red-rimmed eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself, "Come in," she called. The door opened and footsteps stopped just outside the bathroom door.

"Hey, you okay?" said a familiar voice.

Carol stepped out of the bathroom and stood face to face with Andrea. "Hey; yeah. I'm alright."

The blonde woman eyed her, concern written plainly on her face, "Are you?"

Carol paused as she chewed a fingernail and stared at the floor. She could feel Andrea's eyes on her. "I am... Just had some bad dreams."

Andrea nodded, her hands on her hips. "Oh; I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Carol stepped past her and took a seat at the small table.

"I was wondering if you'd like to take watch with me this afternoon."

Carol looked up at her, scanning her face for signs of pity.

_Last thing I need is someone else thinking I need a babysitter._

But as her blue eyes moved over Andrea's features, she realized that the woman was sincere in her offer. "Sure. I need something to keep my mind occupied anyway," she smiled weakly and sighed.

Andrea returned the smile. "You should get some breakfast; it's not doing you any good to stay cooped up in here; come on." She beckoned to Carol as she made her way down the steps and hopped out of the RV. Carol walked back to the small room and grabbed a faded, green cardigan before following Andrea out into the morning.

"Any big plans for today?" Carol asked as the two walked towards the farm house.

"Think the men are making a run into town; something about medical supplies." Andrea kept her eyes on the house as they walked.

"Oh." Carol fidgeted with the cross at her neck and was silent a moment. The small pendant was cold in her hands as she considered whether or not to ask the question poised behind her lips. "Who all is going?" She squeezed the cross tighter in her palm and kept her eyes on the ground.

Andrea glanced sideways at Carol before answering. "Small group; just Rick, Glenn...and Daryl."

Carol sucked in a sharp breath and felt the muscles in her stomach tighten; she began tugging on the fine, gold chain and it dug into the soft flesh of her neck.

_ It's fine. They've done this so many times. They'll be fine._

"I'm sure they'll be fine," said Carol softly, hoping to conceal the worry teeming beneath her words. She kept walking, placing one heavy foot in front of the other...

_It's going to be fine..._

"Should be quick; they're leaving after breakfast."

Carol nodded, one hand still clutching the cross; the chain was leaving red marks on her skin.

When Andrea looked back at the woman beside her, she saw that Carol's eyes were vacant as if her thoughts were in some far off place. "They're leaving early; they'll have light on their side," she said with as much optimism as she could muster.

Carol was silent the rest of the way, knowing that any further discussion could reveal the true nature of her concerns. After a few moments, the women were climbing the porch steps and pulling open the screen door. It squeaked on its hinges as they stepped into the living room. Carol pulled the cardigan tighter over her narrow shoulders as they headed towards the kitchen.

"Morning," said Andrea, smiling at the others.

Patricia and Maggie turned to greet her. "Hungry?" Patricia asked as she stacked clean dishes on the counter.

"Very, but is there anything I can do to help?" Andrea hooked her thumbs through her belt loops and waited.

"Thank you for the offer but I think we've got things under control here; Maggie will get you some eggs. How 'bout you Carol?" Patricia nodded to the other woman who lingered in the kitchen doorway.

Shaken from her thoughts by Patricia's question, Carol swallowed before answering, "Yes, please."

At the mention of her name, Daryl stiffened. He finished chewing and gently laid his silverware down on his plate. He could feel T-Dog watching him, gauging his reaction, and he fought the urge to break the man's jaw. Calmly, quietly, he took his plate to the sink and handed it to Patricia. "Thanks, 'ppreciate it," he said in a lowered voice before turning on his heel to leave. He brushed past Carol on his way out, refusing to look at her.

Carol averted her eyes as he moved past her, not wanting to see him... to think about him... about the run...

_Just calm down and eat. Nothing you can do about any of this._

T-Dog's eyes narrowed as he watched the hunter leave.

They were all looking at her now, watching as she strode to the island and leaned back against it. Her frustrations bubbled to the surface as they continued to stare at her, "What?" She asked, addressing no one in particular. Patricia and Maggie quickly turned back to their tasks and Andrea moved to stand beside Carol.

"Nothin', just wonderin' if you know what's eatin' him; like he woke up on the wrong side of the tent this mornin'," said T-Dog.

Glenn looked expectantly at Carol.

She rubbed her temple and closed her eyes in exasperation, "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I doubt th-"

Glenn shook his head, cutting T-Dog off.

"Just seems like ya'll talk; that's all," T-Dog picked up his plate and headed to the sink.

Carol turned to look at him, her brow furrowed and her arms were folded defensively across her chest but he met her stare and held it, undeterred by the anger clouding her features.

Andrea and Glenn watched the exchange, confused. "These are ready," said Maggie as she turned to hand Andrea a plate. T-Dog stepped around them both but kept his eyes on Carol. She looked back at him, defiant, and he finally broke the contact as he left the kitchen.

"I'm going to find Beth; she'll be needing help with the hens. Can you finish up Maggie?" Patricia dried her hands with a tattered dish towel.

"Sure; it's no trouble; go on." The young woman cracked two more eggs, the gooey contents sizzling in the pan.

Patricia gave her a pat on the back before walking out into the living room. "Carol, these are gonna be done in just a second." Maggie swept her dark hair behind one ear as she looked back at Carol.

"That's fine; thank you," said Carol as she pinched the bridge of her nose and continued to lean against the island.

Andrea stared at Glenn and arched an eyebrow as she brought a fork to her lips. Glenn looked back at her, anxious but without answers; he sighed, running a hand through his black hair. "Alright; come get it," Maggie called over her shoulder. Carol walked to the stove and accepted a plate.

"You okay?" Maggie asked

Carol took a step back and studied the younger woman before responding.

_My daughter is gone. Sophia...is gone. I'm exhausted, distracted, foolish, grieving...distracted. I'm stuck here, surrounded by people who think I've gone crazy and now he's going...again. To face more of those things...and I wish that didn't matter so much but it does and it's awful and there's nothing I can do and I'm tired... And if one more person asks how I'm doing... I might just tell them._

"No," She answered flatly, "I'm not."

Maggie's brows knit together and her lips parted but before she could speak Carol turned away and walked out of the kitchen with her plate. The young woman stood frozen in front of the stove, a spatula still clutched in her right hand. She watched as Carol moved through the living room and out the front door. At a loss, she turned off the burner, laid the spatula in the sink and made her way to the island. She stood beside Glenn and he reached out to stroke one of her hands.

Glenn looked at the woman beside him and then across the island at Andrea, "Is there something in the water?"

"What's that?" Andrea looked up from her plate.

"Or a gas leak or something?" He drummed his fingers nervously on the island.

"What do you mean?" asked Maggie

"I mean everyone... the way they're acting." He shook his head as he stepped back from the island and began to pace. The women watched him as he walked back and forth across the kitchen.

"Shane's been off for a while now and no one seems to know why, but I think he's getting worse... and Daryl and T-Dog earlier... what was all that about? And now Carol...? What is wrong with everyone?" His hands were in his pockets and he finally stopped to lean against the sink, "Am I missing something?"

Andrea laid down her fork and brought one hand to rest under chin as she leaned over the island. She glanced at Glenn before returning her gaze to her plate, "I think it's just been a rough few weeks. With the barn and then Dale..." She raised one hand and then let it drop to her side, "I think they're still healing; maybe they just need more time."

Glenn lowered his head as he took in Andrea's words, "We_ all_ lost them," he said as he straightened his back and moved towards her. "We're _all_ healing. I just don't think we can afford to let it break us." Andrea could see the hurt in his dark eyes as he stood in front of her, one of his fists had come to rest on the island.

"You're right," said Maggie softly; he turned to face her.

"What happened was awful, but we gotta live with it and move on. Ain't a whole lot of us left and we shouldn't waste time fightin' each other." She walked to Glenn's side and placed a light kiss on his cheek before turning back to the sink to deal with the dishes.

"Let me help you with those," said Andrea. "I'm about done with breakfast anway." Maggie gave the women a small smile and soon the two were standing side by side, their hands and wrists submerged in the soapy water.

Glenn lingered in the kitchen for a moment before heading to the porch. He found Carol sitting on the top step, her plate resting on her knees. She looked up at him, waiting. He removed his baseball cap as he sat down beside her.

"You checking up on me too?" She asked between mouthfuls.

Glenn coughed and kept his eyes on the distant tree line. He fumbled with his hat as he considered what he could possibly say to Carol that she hadn't already heard. "I'm just worried."

"Everybody's worried," Carol muttered as she slid her knife across the second egg and watched the yolk seep out.

Glenn bit his lower lip as he stared down at the old baseball cap in his hands. "I mean about the group."

Carol eyed him as she chewed.

"It just seems... like everyone is..."

"What Glenn?" Impatience got the best of her and the words held more venom than she'd intended.

He sighed deeply, "Fighting."

Carol was silent and stared guiltily down at her worn sneakers.

"People are arguing, closing off... shutting each other out." He turned to face her.

Her thoughts drifted to Daryl and she could feel her head beginning to pound. She rubbed her brow and waited for Glenn to continue.

"I just think that this... that now is when we should be working things out; coming together... At least, I think that's what Dale would have wanted." With that, Glenn rose, placed the cap back on his head and walked down the steps in search of Rick. Carol watched him go, the soft, yellow yolk spreading over her plate.

_He's right; none of this is helping. I can't keep snapping at every hand that reaches out to me. We're stuck here; we should be able to talk to each other._

The pounding in her head grew worse as she thought of T-Dog.

_He didn't mean any harm... What good does it do to push them all away? It's not like they're going anywhere... Still; they could stand to mind their own business once in a while. _

She frowned at the uneaten egg.

_It's none of his concern who I talk to or how often._

Carol forced down the rest of her breakfast as she sat brooding on the steps.

"I made you all a list of the things we'll be needin'," said Herschel as he handed Rick a small scrap of paper.

Rick scratched his jaw as he read over the list.

"Gauze, bandages, syringes, pain killers, ointment...needles, dental floss..." he said the words quietly as his eyes continued to roam over the page. "Cold and Flu medication, sedatives, vitamins, peroxide, ipecac... These all sound like good things," said Rick.

Herschel nodded, "With winter comin' I really want for us to have plenty of vitamins and the cold medicine, if nothin' else. Last thing we need is for some bad weather to hit and knock us flat with fevers and achin' bones."

The two men stood beneath a large tree in the center of camp; they lifted their heads when they saw Glenn approaching. "Hey," said Rick.

"Hey; we ready?" The younger man's hands were in his pockets and his eyes darted between Rick and Herschel.

"I was just showin' Rick some of things I'd like you all to look for; if you can think of anythin' else to add, don't hesitate."

Rick handed Glenn the list. "Just gotta find Daryl and then we'll head out. There's plenty of duffle bags in the car; we need to bring back as much as we can."

"I trust you all will be careful out there," said Herschel as he turned to walk slowly back to the house.

"I think we can manage this." Glenn folded the list and slipped it into his back pocket.

"Grab a gun from the RV; I'm gonna find Daryl and we'll meet you by the car." Rick made his way across camp and Glenn headed to the RV.

Daryl knelt in his tent, preparing a bag for the run.

_ Flashlight...rope..._

He rearranged the contents of his bag one last time before grabbing his bow and hefting it over his shoulder.

_Oughtta do it._

His hand reached instinctively for the knife at his hip and he touched the leather sheath, feeling the hard blade inside. Satisfied, he rose with his things and stepped out of the tent, zipping the flap shut behind him. He brought a hand to his brow, blocking the glare of the morning sun; Rick was approaching in the distance. Daryl turned his head and spat, wondering what the deputy had to say.

"Herschel gave me a list of supplies; you ready?" Rick stood in front of Daryl's tent, his arms folded across his chest.

"Ready as I'm gonna be," answered Daryl as he wiped sweat from his upper lip.

"Alright, let's head to the cars. We're burnin' daylight." Rick moved past the tent and headed to the front gate where Glenn and the car were waiting.

As Daryl began to follow Rick, his eyes scanned the camp and eventually came to rest on the farm house. He lowered his gaze, remembering the conversation with Carol.

_Gotta get away from this place... from these people..._

He stalked off towards the gate and kept his thoughts to himself.

Carol returned to the kitchen and set her plate gently on the counter. Andrea reached for the dish but Carol stopped her. "I'll get it."

Andrea and Maggie stared at her.

"You all have done enough," said Carol, doing her best to sound normal.

Andrea stepped aside and allowed Carol to plunge her hands into the scalding water.

"I'm gonna go find that Remington; meet me in the RV? " Asked Andrea hesitantly.

Without looking back, Carol answered, "Sounds fine; I'll be there soon."

Andrea slid her hands into her back pockets before leaving the kitchen; the screen door slammed behind her seconds later.

Maggie and Carol washed dishes in silence, the plates clattered as Maggie stacked them.

"Sorry about earlier," said Carol as her fingers closed around a fork beneath the water.

The younger woman ran a dry cloth around the edge of a glass before looking up. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. You were just being polite and I snapped at you."

Maggie placed the clean glass carefully in a nearby cabinet. "I'm scared too."

Carol stopped scrubbing and stared at her. "Scared?"

"That they're goin'," said Maggie, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she lowered her head.

Carol was silent as she moved her right hand to rest over Maggie's. "They'll be fine." She rubbed Maggie's knuckles and forced a smile onto her lips. "They've done this a hundred times." Her words were hollow but she hoped they brought comfort to the young woman.

Maggie sniffed and wiped her nose. "I hope you're right."

"I am. Now let's finish this so we can see them off." She handed Maggie another dish.

The three men threw their gear into the backseat and Rick walked around the vehicle to stand by the driver's side door. "Shotgu-," Glenn swallowed his words as Daryl glared at him. "Alright, geez; I'll take the back." Glenn slid reluctantly into the backseat and squeezed in alongside their bags. Rick leaned against the car and looked over the map Herschel had given him.

"We goin' or what?" Daryl asked as he swung an arm into the air and let it fall.

"In a minute," said Rick, his eyes still scanning the map.

Daryl rolled his eyes and began pacing in front of the car. He paused when he saw figures approaching.

Rick lifted his head to see his wife and son heading their way; he walked to meet them.

"Don't be gone long," said Lori as she wrapped her arms around her husband and pressed her face into his chest. Rick curled one arm up and over her shoulder, the other he extended to Carl. His son leaned against him and he laid his other hand on the boy's back. "I won't; just try and look after things here, okay?" He stared into his son's eyes and Carl nodded.

Daryl averted his eyes, giving the small family some semblance of privacy.

Soon, Maggie appeared, knocking on the window of the backseat; Glenn opened the door and she instantly reached for him, her slender arms circling his neck. Quiet tears rolled down her cheeks as she tightened her grip on Glenn; he gave her a quick kiss on the lips before gently pulling her arms down, "Don't worry; this is nothing... I swear." He kissed her once more on the forehead before she released him and walked away from the car, sobbing silently to herself. Glenn watched her go and Daryl tried desperately not to notice.

_They're gettin' soft. This ain't nothin'. Just bringin' back some medicine... Good lord._

He ran a rough hand over his face and turned to open the passenger side door but something stopped him. Something soft brushed his shoulder and he spun around to see Carol standing in front of him.

"Need somethin'?" He asked, irritated at her presence.

_Like I need this damn woman in my head..._

She took a step back from him and stared at the ground, planning her next words.

"Maybe headache medicine... if you can find it. Been getting them alot lately." She fumbled with the wedding band on her left hand, turning it over and over.

Daryl placed his hands on his hips and nodded. He waited for her to say more but she just stood in front of him, eyes locked on the dirt around her sneakers. He snorted and moved to grab the door handle but she reached for him, her fingertips barely grazing his bicep. "What?" He snapped as he turned to face her once more.

She began fumbling through the small bag she carried on her hip until her fingers closed around the desired object. Without looking up, she pulled a green apple from the bag and offered it to Daryl. "For later," she said softly, still refusing to look at him.

Daryl studied her face for a moment before accepting the apple. The shiny skin was smooth in his palm and he carefully stuffed the fruit into his pocket. "Thanks," he muttered as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

Carol finally lifted her gaze and looked at him, her blue eyes wide and clear. She struggled to memorize every detail; the shocks of hair plastered to his brow, chapped lips set in a hard line, keen eyes, blue, always searching... "Stay safe," she said as she hugged herself.

Daryl looked back at her and nodded before ducking into the passenger's seat. She fought the urge to press a hand to the glass... to keep the car from leaving... but Rick revved the engine and the car rolled down the gravel drive. Carol could only stand and watch as it grew smaller and smaller in the distance. A single tear slid down her face and she could taste the salt as it came to rest on her lips. Her eyes remained fixed on the car until it disappeared, a cloud of dust billowing in its wake...

_ Please... come back_


	10. Close

**Thank you again for the kind reviews; they are deeply appreciated : ) The last chapter was all angst so this time I wanted to focus on some action. After all, what romance could be complete without a little blood and guts? This is my first stab (no pun intended!) at an extended action sequence so let me know what you think! Thank you for reading : )**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 10: Close**

Daryl sat in the passenger's seat, his head resting against the window. He watched as fields, trees and asphalt disappeared behind them. Yellow lines on the road slipped past, one after another...

_Can't be much further._

He began to drum his fingers on his bow.

"We gettin' close?" Asked Rick, his eyes on Glenn's reflection in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, just another mile or so."

"Good; I want us to finish this quick; keep the light on our side." Rick cast occasional glances out the window, searching for stray walkers.

Glenn leaned forward, placing one hand against the back of Daryl's seat.

"So...Maggie tol-"

Daryl turned slowly and glared at Glenn, silencing him.

"Never mind," he sighed, slumping against the backseat.

"Don't pay him any mind," said Rick as his eyes rested briefly the brooding hunter. "I think his hand's just botherin' him."

Daryl's grip tightened on the bow and he felt his spine stiffen.

"Now go on; finish the thought." Rick returned his gaze to the road.

Glenn rubbed his neck before continuing.

"Maggie...she told me she loves me."

Daryl snorted as he brought his thumb to his lip and began to chew the nail. Rick shot him a warning glance before addressing Glenn.

"I'm not seein' what the problem is."

Glenn was silent in the back seat; he ran a hand over his face and blinked several times.

"I didn't say it back."

Rick studied the younger man in the rearview and saw the guilt clouding his features.

"Hey," he said.

Glenn reluctantly met his gaze in the mirror.

"This is a good thing." A smile crept across the deputy's face. "It's somethin' we don't get enough of nowadays so enjoy it." He saw color spread across Glenn's face. "When we get back, return the favor; it's not like she's goin' anywhere."

Glenn allowed himself to smile and gave Rick a nod. Daryl kept his eyes on the road.

_ These two gonna be jawin' the whole damn time about damn women? This ain't no therapy session, Christ..._

The hunter breathed a sigh of relief as the vehicle slowed and Rick eased them to a stop in front of the pharmacy. Daryl was the first one out of his seat; he jerked open the door to the backseat and motioned for Glenn to toss him a duffle bag. The younger man obliged and snatched the remaining bags for him and Rick to carry. The three men stood beside the trunk, staring up and down the empty street. As they took in their surroundings, Daryl noted a bar, a Laundromat and a hardware store in addition to the pharmacy. He spat onto the dusty road and waited for instructions.

"Alright," said Rick, his eyes scanning the shops, searching for any sign of movement among the debris. "Glenn, you have the list; let Daryl get a look at it so we're all on the same page."

Daryl extended his hand as Glenn withdrew the list from his back pocket.

"If you can think of anything else we might need, just let us know," Rick paced in front of the pharmacy as Daryl's eyes quickly scanned the list.

"Got it," Daryl handed the scrap of paper back to Glenn. He began advancing towards the building when Rick caught him by the arm. Daryl jerked away and glared at him.

"Look; we do this _my_ way." Rick's eyes narrowed on the hunter. "We stay tight; this needs to be quiet, clean...in and out." He turned to face Glenn and rest a hand on his shoulder. "You've been here so you know the layout; show us where to look and we'll cover you."

Glenn nodded and offered Rick one of the duffle bags. Daryl scratched at his chin, impatient. "We goin' or what?" He hitched the bow higher on his shoulder.

With nothing left to discuss, the three men made their way to the entrance. Glenn gripped the door handle and carefully pulled it open. They paused in the doorway, each straining to hear any sounds that may be coming from inside. Greeted only by silence, the trio moved quietly past the abandoned checkout counter. Rick's right hand rested cautiously on his holster as he looked left and right and left again after each step. Daryl's practiced footsteps were silent as he stepped gingerly around the debris littering the ground.

"Ok," Rick whispered as they stood hunched in front of the center aisle, "Where do you think we should start?" His green eyes were focused on Glenn.

"I'm pretty sure aisle two has most of the cold and flu medicine." He swallowed hard and gripped the straps of his back pack.

"Alright then; aisle two it is." Rick eyed Daryl through the gloom. "Glenn can take the center of the aisle, I'll cover this end and you watch the back; let's move."

"Fine with me." Daryl dipped his shoulder letting the crossbow fall into his hands; he raised it as they began walking to the left, towards aisle two.

The men remained close, never breaking formation as they made their way to the far end of the store. Rick continued scanning the area, gazing quickly down each of the aisles before snapping his attention back to his companions.

"Looks like a few folks got here before us," Daryl muttered under his breath, noticing the empty shelves.

"Just grab what you can," hissed Rick, the tension plain in his voice.

The stopped in front of aisle two.

"I'm stayin' here; I can see the front of the store and I'll be watchin' the windows. Go on and be quick; I doubt everything we need is on this aisle." Rick turned his back to them and fixed his gaze on the glass doors, one hand still hovered over his holster.

Glenn made his way down the aisle and Daryl followed, keeping his crossbow raised. The presence of the weapon at his back became too much for Glenn and he stopped suddenly, looking over his shoulder at Daryl. "Can you at least walk in front of me with that thing?"

"Shut up and start lookin'," Daryl snarled.

"You got a flashlight?"

Daryl frowned as he reached for the rucksack that hung at his hip and plunged a hand into it, he kept his eyes on Glenn as his fingers closed around the desired object. He pulled it from the bag and shoved it at the younger man before walking silently to the far end of the aisle.

_Jackass. If I wanted him dead his ass would be on the ground…_

Daryl swallowed his anger and focused on the task at hand; he raised his bow once more and stared hard at the back of the store, searching for any sign of movement… of life.

Glenn held the list under the flashlight and looked over the items that Herschel had scribbled down. "Okay," he whispered to himself, slipping the list back into his pocket and shined the light on the ground. Bottles and packages were strewn across the floor, knocked from their rightful places in moments of chaos. Glenn made sure to scan the floor first, nudging small boxes with the tip of his sneaker and stooping to examine pill bottles.

_ Nothing. _

He licked his lips and began rifling through the meager contents of the shelves, tossing useless items over his shoulder. His brow creased as he began to think that nothing of value remained, but he persisted. Finally, reaching for the very back of one of the shelves, Glenn's fingers found their way around a familiar box; he held it under the light to verify the find…

_Nyquil._

He allowed himself to smile. Several boxes of the hallowed medicine had fallen over and lay flat, collecting dust at the back of the shelf; Glenn quickly stuffed all five packages into his duffle bag and continued to search. He moved up and down the aisle, checking every shelf and even dropping to the floor to press his face against the linoleum and look at the underside of the shelves. His hand slid into the dark gap between the shelf and the floor and grabbed a packet of Theraflu that had been overlooked. When the beam of light fell across the vitamin section, Glenn's face fell; it was nearly picked clean.

_Dammit. _

After rubbing the back of his head in frustration, he decided to take everything that remained and tossed a few bottles of daily vitamins, krill oil, B vitamins and children's gummies into the duffle bag. He cast quick glances up and down the aisle, and saw that both Rick and Daryl still stood fixed at either end, silent sentinels.

_Alright… Pain killers…_

His eyes roamed over the shelves in search of Aspirin, Advil, Tylenol… anything… He held several small bottles in his hand and shone the light on them to read the labels, his eyes straining to make out the small print.

_ Excedrin… Bayer… _

His body jerked at the sound of movement and he dropped one of the bottles, it rolled lazily on the ground, contents rattling…

_Jesus!_

Daryl's duffle bag had fallen to the ground with a sudden thunk as he shifted his stance and raised his bow higher.

"What is it?" Glenn whispered through the gloom, his muscles beginning to tense painfully.

"You see somethin'?" Rick looked over his shoulder at them.

Daryl was silent as he took a step forward, moving away from the aisle.

"Nah; heard somethin'." A hush fell across the aisle as Daryl continued to move towards the back of the store, his eyes seeking out every shadow, every dark corner where a threat might lie coiled and ready to strike at them.

Glenn slung his duffle bag carefully over his shoulder and reached back, pulling a rusty machete from his backpack, he held the blade in sweaty palms as he crept towards Daryl. "What did you hear?" He hissed, the urgency sounding more like fear in his ears.

"Don't know," Daryl whispered without looking back at Glenn. He took another step towards the back of the store and froze…

_There it is again…_

A soft scraping sound… Barely audible above the sound of his own breathing and the blood beginning to rush in his ears. "It's comin' from over there," he whispered as he nodded towards the pharmacy counter and motioned for Glenn to follow him with two fingers.

"For God's sake," Rick hissed as he abandoned his post and moved to follow them. He drew his pistol from its holster and kept it pointed at the ground as he hurried to catch up.

"There's not much left," said Andrea as she handed Carol the bottle of sunscreen.

"It's alright; a few more freckles won't hurt." Carol squeezed a little lotion into her hand before rubbing it over her face. It smelled faintly of coconuts and she sighed, trying to remember the last time she'd seen the ocean.

"Glad you came up here." Andrea looked down at her from the lawn chair.

Carol worked the last of the lotion into her neck and chest before getting comfortable on the blanket Andrea had brought up for her. "Yeah; I am too." She laid on her stomach, propped up by her elbows, the Remington beside her.

"Sure you don't want the chair?"

"I'm fine, but thanks." Carol raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she stared into the distance, searching for any sign of movement near the trees.

For several moments, the two women were silent as they kept watch on the roof of the RV. The barrel of Andrea's rifle grew hot and was beginning to burn where it lay across her bare legs. She picked it up and let it rest against her shoulder as her eyes drifted back to Carol.

"You comfortable with that thing?" She tilted her head, indicating the Remington.

Carol chewed her lower lip and wiped sweat from the back of her neck. "I suppose."

"I know they can be hard to handle." Andrea crossed one leg over the other and shifted in her chair.

"Yeah; if Daryl hadn't…" Carol stopped herself, letting her gaze drop as she fumbled with a loose thread on the blanket.

Andrea ran her fingers through her hair. "It was good of him to help… unexpected, but good."

Carol nodded, her brows knitting together in frustration.

_The whole point of being up here was to get him…all of this out of my head…_

She leaned on her side and looked up at Andrea, "Can we talk about something else?"

Concern played across the blonde woman's face as her eyes went from the tree line to her friend. "Carol; I didn't mean…"

"I know; I'm just trying to keep my mind off the run, that's all." Her fingers still tugged at the loose thread but her gaze returned to the trees.

Andrea nodded, realizing the conversation was over for now; she tightened her grip on the rifle and refocused her attention on the distant fields. The sun beat down on them as they kept their silent vigil.

With the others at his back, Daryl took a tentative step towards the pharmacy counter. He clenched his teeth as he heard the sound again.

_The hell is it?_

He raised a finger to his lips as he looked back at Rick and Glenn. Together, they crept closer. Bracing himself, Daryl leapt over the counter, angling his bow downward as he landed. His eyes darted quickly to the left and the right. Rick and Glenn carefully hoisted themselves over to stand beside him.

"See anything?" Glenn whispered.

Daryl held up a hand to silence him. The three of them stood frozen, waiting… And then they heard it.

"Shit!" Glenn breathed, clutching the machete tighter.

Rick grabbed his shoulder, "Easy; where's it comin' from?"

Daryl moved forward, leading them to the very back of the store… Suddenly he lowered his head, burying his nose in the crook of his elbow as the stench hit him. Rick stifled a cough. Daryl stopped dead as something on the floor caught his eye. A withered hand groped in the darkness, brittle fingers flexing slowly, leaving trails on the dusty floor.

_Christ_.

The three men raised their weapons, rounding the end of the aisle. On the other side, a ruined face stared up at them, jaws snapping at the empty air. The walker lay trapped, its lower body crushed beneath a toppled shelf. At the sight of the men, the creature grew agitated, struggling uselessly under the weight and scraping at the ground with a blackened hand. Flesh had begun to fall away from its face and a skeletal mouth gaped at them as the walker hissed.

"I got it," said Daryl, raising his bow and staring down into the dead eyes of the corpse. The creature reached for him, straining to break free but Daryl loosed a single arrow into its forehead and stepped back. The walker lay still; thick, black blood dribbling from the wound and sliding slowly down its ravaged face. The men studied it, disgusted, before Daryl reached down to dislodge the arrow. He placed his boot on the walker's skull, bracing himself as he jerked the arrow free with a sickening, wet sound.

"Let's finish this and get the hell out of here," said Rick as he headed back towards the counter and climbed over.

Glenn followed, freezing as he hoisted himself up. "Shit!"

Rick turned to face him and followed his gaze to the front of the store. Through the windows, he saw walkers, at least ten, shuffling around the car and clawing at the glass.

"Where did they all come from?" Said Glenn as he knelt on the countertop in disbelief.

"Hell if I know," growled Daryl as he hopped over and raised his bow, "But they ain't stayin'." He stalked past Rick and began advancing towards the front of the store.

"Wait!" Rick called, his voice hoarse with tension.

Daryl stopped and turned, frowning. "What? We gonna sit here waitin' for more of 'em to show up?"

"We gotta have a plan," hissed Rick as he placed a palm on his forehead and began pacing in front of the counter.

Glenn swallowed hard before speaking up, "We have to get them away from the door."

Rick and Daryl stared at him through the gloom.

"If someone goes out the back, maybe they'll get distracted and we'll have a chance to run for the car."

Rick's hands were on his hips as he considered Glenn's words.

"I can do it," said Glenn as he slid off the counter.

"No." Rick shook his head. "No; I'll go. You take the door with Daryl."

Glenn started to argue but Rick closed the gap between them; their faces were inches apart. "You have to trust me on this; I'll go out the back and come around. When they see me, it'll draw them away; that's when you and Daryl break for the car. Got it?" The deputy's green eyes were all seriousness as he stared at the younger man and waited for confirmation. Glenn finally nodded, letting his gaze fall to the floor as he turned stiffly away from Rick.

"C'mon; we ain't got all day," Daryl snapped as Glenn moved to follow him; the two of them crouched as they made their way to the front of the store.

Rick watched them for a moment before steeling himself and climbing back over the counter. As he walked to the backdoor, he passed several shelves and scanned their contents, hoping to see something useful. With no time to spare, he grabbed several promising bottles and shoved them into the duffle bag that still hung from his shoulder. The muscles in his jaw clenched as he moved nervously to the back door and gently pushed it open.

"Jesus," he whispered as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the daylight rushing in. He poked his head out of the doorway, looking left and right for signs of movement. Seeing none, he stepped into the white-hot afternoon, letting the door close quietly behind him.

Daryl and Glenn were crouched on either side of the front door, fingers curling protectively around their weapons. Outside, the walkers continued to stumble around the car, moaning as they pressed their faces to the windows.

"Fuckin' geeks," Daryl muttered.

Glenn's back was against the wall and he took deep breaths to calm himself.

"It's gonna be fine," the hunter snarled. "Nothin' we ain't seen before."

"I'm just wondering where they came from so suddenly and how many more there are," Glenn sighed.

Daryl had been wondering the same things. "Bar across the road; maybe the noise drew 'em when we pulled up."

"Maybe." Glenn brought his knees to his chest and ducked his head between them. "I just hope Rick knows what he's doing."

"You and me both," Daryl scratched behind one ear before reaching into his pocket. "Oh yeah, almost forgot…" he fished out several orange bottles and tossed one to Glenn. He sat up as it landed in his lap.

"Vicodin?" A crease formed in Glenn's brow as he looked at Daryl.

"Found it in the back. Whole mess of bottles on the ground behind that walker."

Glenn placed the bottle in his bag before eyeing the remaining ones that Daryl held. "And those?"

"More Vicodin…OxyContin…" Daryl rolled the plastic bottles in his palm.

Glenn eyed him, "Isn't it pretty easy to get hooked on that stuff? I mean, should we really…"

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "First off, ain't no 'we.' These are mine. Just 'cuz I gave ya some don't mean ya gotta go usin' it. Second; you ever been shot?"

Glenn averted his eyes and rubbed the back of his head, "No."

"Well," Daryl raised his hand and shook the bottles, rattling the contents at Glenn, "When that day comes, these right here… they're gonna look a whole lot better'n they do right now." He shoved the bottles back into his pocket and let himself slide a little further down the wall. The two of them waited in silence as walkers continued to grunt and moan just outside the door.

Rick was painfully aware of the gravel crunching beneath his boots as he stepped out the back door. He took slow, measured steps and kept his pistol raised as he made his way along the rough brick wall. Beads of sweat formed on his brow but he continued moving to the left and prepared to round the corner. Pausing, Rick pressed his back into the wall and closed his eyes.

_Get your head clear._

After several deep breaths, he moved from the wall and glanced around the corner. About fifteen yards away, the walkers were still clustered around the car, Rick noticed that one of them was stumbling towards the pharmacy door. He frowned as he watched the corpse's bony fingers begin to scratch at the glass.

_Shit._

There was no time… He knew that Daryl and Glenn were waiting on the other side of that door… Quickly, Rick stepped from behind the wall, cocked his pistol and fired. The walker that had been standing at the pharmacy door fell to the ground as a bullet ripped through its rotten skull. Blood and brains burst at the back of its head, spattering on the glass and falling to the dusty road. The others looked up, craning their necks to find the source of the sound. They hissed when they saw Rick and began advancing, some of them dragging broken feet through the dirt as they stumbled towards him. Rick kept his colt raised as he backed away, drawing the horde from the vehicle. "C'mon!" He yelled as sweat slid down his back. The walkers increased their pace, their pale arms extended, reaching for him.

Glenn jumped slightly at the sound of the shot and he and Daryl exchanged a look. Daryl pointed a finger upwards and the two of them shifted to look out the windows.

"One down," Daryl gestured to the walker just outside the door, its brains seeping onto the ground.

"Look! They're moving!" Glenn pressed his hands to the glass as he watched the walkers abandon the car in pursuit of Rick.

"Wait till we can't see 'em. Let 'em round that corner and follow him to the back.

Glenn cast a nervous glance at Daryl, "What about Rick? We can't just…"

"Rick can handle himself; once we're in the car we swing around and get him."

"Fine." Glenn ran a hand anxiously over his face as he watched the walkers leave. They're almost to the end of the wall, shouldn't we…"

"The hell?" Daryl squinted hard.

"What is it?" Glenn asked, gripping the machete.

"You gotta be shittin' me."

Glenn followed the hunter's gaze to the bar… there was movement behind the cloudy windows. Walkers began staggering out, falling over each other as they made their way down the porch steps and into the street.

"Oh God; they heard the shot…" Glenn turned to Daryl, "It's too many…Rick can't take them all.."

Daryl snorted, "Ain't got time to sit here and debate it; let's go!" He rose, slamming his shoulder against the door to push it open. Glenn jumped to his feet, following Daryl.

"Go!" Daryl snarled as the two stepped over the fallen walker and ran to the car. Glenn reached the passenger's side door and yanked it open, jumping inside. Some of the bar walkers had noticed them and were stumbling towards the car. Daryl slid in after Glenn, slamming the door shut behind him. "Now drive!" Daryl yelled as Glenn crawled awkwardly into the driver's seat and turned the keys they'd left in the ignition. His foot found the gas and the car lurched forward, throwing Daryl against the dashboard. "Christ!"

"Sorry!" Glenn hissed before jerking the wheel, ramming one of the bar walkers. It disappeared under the car and Daryl felt the bump in the road as they sped over it. "What do I do?" Said Glenn through clenched teeth!"

"Hit those fuckers! Take as many of 'em out as you can before they get near Rick."

Glenn swallowed hard as they plowed down the road and swung around the corner. The tires screeched as Glenn held onto the wheel, his knuckles turning white. Another walker flew over the hood, bouncing off the windshield and smearing it with gore. "Keep goin' and crack my window!"

"What?!"

"You heard me, dammit!" Daryl raised his bow as the glass began to slide down. Glenn struck another walker, running over its torso and severing the body. Daryl eased his bow out the window, doing his best to remain steady as the car pushed through the throng. He searched for Rick through the chaos but couldn't see him. A tall, heavy walker lumbered towards the window, its broken jaw hanging open revealing brown, brittle teeth.

_Alright asshole…_

Daryl quickly loosed an arrow, sending it into the creature's dark, gaping mouth as the car swerved past. He loaded another arrow as Glenn pulled the car in behind the pharmacy.

"We gotta find Rick!" Glenn stopped the car and hurriedly pushed the button to close Daryl's window. They sat in the cabin for a moment, breathing heavily as the remaining walkers closed in around them. Pale arms, gray, white… with dry, flaking flesh reached for them… ragged nails left lines on the glass and teeth gnashed hungrily. Glenn and Daryl looked at each other and the hunter began to count… "One, two….three!" As Daryl muttered the last word, he reached for the door handle and kicked it open hard, sending two walkers stumbling backwards. Glenn mimicked his actions, putting all of his weight behind his shoulder as he used it to shove the driver's side door into three more walkers.

Rick had been slowly forced against the back door with walkers approaching from all sides. Defiant, he squared off and shot the closest corpse, watching it crumple to the ground. His ammo was limited and he began to panic; there was a sudden tightness in his chest and sweat stung his eyes as he tried to aim. There were too many of them…

_Where are they comin' from…_

He mastered himself and shot again; another walker fell, lifeless. As he prepared to shoot again, he saw the car come hurtling around the corner, crashing into corpses and swerving wildly, the grille coated in dark blood. He used one hand to shield his eyes as he strained to see if both men were in the vehicle.

_What in God's name?_

Daryl was hanging out of the passenger's side window with his bow! Rick tried waving his gun in the air to signal them but there were too many bodies in the way. He refocused, shooting another walker.

Glenn leapt from the car, swinging his machete in a wide arc. It found purchase in the neck of a one-armed walker that hissed at the contact; Glenn ripped the weapon free, severing the creature's head. They were everywhere… reaching, pulling at his clothes, growling… He continued to slash at them and managed to break free of the cluster that had formed on his side of the car. There were still too many… Screaming, Glenn turned around and lunged at the nearest corpse, a woman whose dress hung in tatters on her emaciated frame. She snarled, and swung a mangled hand at him but he buried the machete in her forehead and used his foot to shove her backwards into the others. As she fell, his blade slid free, coated in black slime. Another walker appeared behind him, grabbing at his shirt but Glenn kicked hard and stepped to the side, creating space between them. He gripped the machete tightly and readied himself as the creature stumbled towards him, entrails hanging from an ugly slash across its abdomen. From the corner of his eye, Glenn could see more walkers to his left… "Daryl!" He screamed as he hacked an arm off the corpse in front of him.

The hunter had jumped onto the hood of the car and then climbed to the roof where he stood picking off as many walkers as he could. When he loosed his last arrow and saw the target go down, he reached for his knife, pulling it free of the sheath. He heard Glenn's cry and turned to find him. The younger man was nearly surrounded on his side of the car; the corpses were closing in faster than Glenn could take them down… Daryl braced himself before jumping from the roof. He hissed at the pain in his heels when he landed but there was no time… He rushed towards Glenn, burying his knife in as many rotten skulls as he could. One of the walkers on the ground clutched at his leg and he stomped its brittle arm with his boot, snapping it. He came up behind another corpse and ducked just as he heard the sharp whistle of Glenn's machete slicing through air before it met flesh and bone; another head rolled to the ground and the lifeless body followed. Daryl stepped over the carnage, rushing to Glenn's side. Breathless and spattered with gore, the two stood back to back, weapons raised, as walkers continued to circle them. "Just power through 'em all; we gotta get to the backdoor… I think Rick's pinned down back there….I heard the shots." Daryl waited for Glenn's response.

"Okay; let's go."

Back to back, they began cutting through the horde, making their way towards the back of the pharmacy. Walkers lunged at them, relentless but every advance was met with a blade. Daryl grunted as he struggled to pull his knife from a corpse's ruined skull; he managed to scrape it free and kicked the body away as another reached for him, its thin arms swinging wildly. Angry, Daryl drove his knife up through the creature's chin and jerked hard, holding it up like a fish on a hook.

_Fuckin' geeks._

He yelled as he ripped the knife out, tearing the walker's throat open.

"Keep going!" Glenn cried as he hacked away at two more corpses.

Slowly, they advanced, leaving bodies in their wake. Finally, Daryl narrowed his eyes and spotted Rick.

"There he is! Looks like he's havin' some trouble; c'mon!" They hurried towards the back door, using their blades to keep the remaining corpses at bay.

They were getting closer. One of the walkers was in arm's length of Rick and she hissed as she reached for him. He lifted the pistol and shot her in the face, taking the top part of her skull off.

_Damn! I'm out…_

Refusing to give up, he flipped the weapon in his hand and gripped the barrel. As the next walker approached, its bloody jaws snapping, Rick gritted his teeth and swung the pistol. He flinched as it collided with the creature's temple, cracking the bone beneath.

"Rick!" He heard Daryl's voice, calling out across the back lot. Rick edged along the wall, backing away from the advancing corpses. Glenn and Daryl were running now, parting to flank the small group of walkers that remained. They had things surrounded on three sides now. Recognizing the plan, Rick strode from the wall and smashed another walker in the jaw with his pistol. Daryl kicked another walker in the knee, driving his knife into its skull as it fell. They were whittling them down… "You two alright?" Rick yelled as he kneed a walker in the chest and cracked it across the face with the pistol. "Doing…fine!" Glenn grunted as his machete buried itself in a walker's forehead, splitting it open. Ducking and dodging as the creature's reached for them, the men managed to cut down the geeks until only one was left standing. It snarled, leering at them with pale eyes. They circled it slowly as they struggled to catch their breath.

Glenn let his head hang forward as he placed his hands on his knees. Daryl wiped spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand, his breathing ragged. "Wanna do the honors?" He gestured to Rick with his knife. They widened their circle as the creature lashed out, angry… hissing.

Rick slid his pistol back into its holster and looked at Daryl. "Finish it."

The hunter took a step forward and the walker staggered in his direction, gray hands clawing at the air. Daryl waited, both hands gripping the handle of his knife. "C'mon," he whistled, beckoning the corpse. Agitated, its pace increased and it was quickly closing in on the hunter. Its face was distorted with rage as it gnashed its teeth and snarled. Finally, the walker lunged for him and Daryl jumped, bringing the knife down hard and driving the blade deep into the creature's skull. He ripped the blade free, sending bits of brain and fluid flying. The tortured creature lay on the gravel, its mouth still open in the semblance of a vicious growl. Daryl kicked it for good measure and eyed the others, "Let's go."

Stepping over bodies, the three men made their way back to the car. Daryl searched the corpses, retrieving every last one of his arrows. Glenn leaned against the trunk, still catching his breath. Rick and Daryl pulled open the doors and threw their bags in the backseat. Rick's rested his elbow on the open door and stared at the ground. "Feels like we didn't find near enough of the things on that list."

Daryl shifted the bow strap on his shoulder, "Wasn't much left for anyone to find." He slumped into the passenger's seat, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"Glenn," Rick called out as he took the driver's seat.

Slowly, Glenn made his way around and crawled into the backseat, exhausted. "Let's get out of here," he groaned as he stretched out and let the machete fall to the floor.

Rick turned the keys in the ignition and spun the car around in the small back lot, running over corpses as he did so. Gravel crunched under the tires as they accelerated and soon gave way to smooth asphalt; they were heading home.

Carol had taken Andrea's place in the chair, and was enjoying some relief from the heat beneath the umbrella. "How do you handle all this excitement?" She asked, smiling down at the blonde woman.

Andrea rolled her eyes. "So it's been a quiet day; that's a good thing. A lot of this is a waiting game… You never know when something is going to come wandering out of the woods but _I_ want to be ready when it does." She took a sip from her water bottle before offering it to Carol.

"Thanks." The cool liquid was soothing as it passed her lips. She savored the water on her tongue; the afternoon had been long. Dry heat had scorched the backs of her pale legs as she lay on the blanket. "I don't mean to tease."

"Yeah you do," Andrea smiled, shielding her eyes as she stared up at Carol.

They laughed and Carol set the bottle down between them.

"What's on your mind?" Andrea asked, seeing the faraway look in Carol's blue eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Just seems like you're doing some deep thinking."

Carol hesitated and licked her chapped lips as she weighed the pros and cons of opening up to this woman.

_We've all got enough to worry about… She doesn't need my problems in her head… But… It's not like I'm talking to anyone else…_

She sighed, holding her face in her hands.

"Carol?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Only if you're up for sharing," Said Andrea as she sat up and stretched.

Carol shook her head slowly as she considered where to start. "You're going to think I'm crazy… and ridiculous… or just plain stupid…"

Andrea glanced over her shoulder at their camp and then the farm house before turning back to Carol. "Have you met some of these people?"

Carol couldn't suppress the nervous laugh that bubbled up from her chest. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, "Lord."

"What?!" Andrea demanded as she smacked one of Carol's sneakers.

"Nothing! It's just…" she opened her eyes to see Andrea staring at her expectantly. "It's like I said before… ridiculous."

"More ridiculous than the little triangle going on with Lori, Rick and Shane? I doubt it. They're gonna have a hell of a time figuring out whose baby that is."

Carol's eyes widened and she gaped at Andrea in disbelief. "What?!"

"Later; tell me your thing." She took another swig from the water bottle before hugging her knees.

Carol struggled to gather her thoughts after hearing the disturbing bit of gossip about the Grimes family. "Well…" she ran one hand through her short hair and let the other rest in her lap.

"Yes?" Andrea smiled at her.

"Okay," Carol took a deep breath before continuing. "It's like this. After Sophia…." She paused. "After what happened, I didn't know what to do."

Andrea's smile faded, replaced by concern.

"Sometimes I wish that Daryl had let me go to her because then it would be over."

"Hey," Andrea reached for Carol's hand and squeezed it. "I've been there; it's not a good place but you can come back from it."

"I have," Carol sniffed and wiped away a small tear, "I just felt like that's where I needed to start… for you to understand all this." She took a breath and regained her composure. Andrea's hand remained on hers.

"I didn't know what to do and I thought the answer was to shut everyone out, to pull away."

Andrea nodded, rubbing her thumb over Carol's knuckles.

"So I did…for a while…" She kept her eyes on the tree line, avoiding Andrea. "But lately…."

"Yes?" The blonde woman's green eyes were fixed on Carol, struggling to read the emotions on her face.

"Lately…" a small giggle escaped Carol as she began shaking her head again. "I've been thinking that I might have…" Her head shot up suddenly, every muscle in her body tensing. "Do you hear that?" She whispered.

Andrea released Carol's hand. "What is it?"

"That noise…" Carol rose from the chair, setting her gun down. A crease formed on her brow and her lips parted slightly as she muttered under her breath, "It sounded… like a _car_." She blinked as the realization hit her and her gaze shifted to the dirt road beyond the gate. The painful throb of hope wracked her body as she stood waiting on the roof of the RV.

_I heard it… I know I did… _

Andrea stood behind her, listening.

The distant rumble grew louder until a cloud of dust appeared on the road.

"They're back," Carol breathed as her heart beat itself against her ribs.

Andrea smiled, "We've gotta tell somebody to open the gate for them." But Carol was already making her way down the ladder at the back of the RV.

"Carol?" Andrea called out, but the thin, freckled woman had already reached the ground and was hurrying across the field. She ran, ignoring the burning sensation in her chest as she tried to breathe. When she reached the fence, Carol quickly undid the latch and grunted as she pulled the heavy gate open. The car continued to leave a cloud of red dust in its wake as it neared the farm and by now the others had heard it. Lori emerged from the house, holding Carl's hand and the Greene sisters soon followed. Even Shane and T-Dog came jogging from the other side of the farm, but it was Carol who stood breathless at the gate when the car pulled up. Fear clawed at her belly when she saw the gore that covered the vehicle. Black blood was caked on the hood and smeared across the windshield; she squinted and brought a hand to her mouth when she noticed clumps of human hair caught in the grille. She fought back tears when the thought hit her…

_Maybe he didn't come back… What happened to them?_

Rick slowly opened the door and stepped out of the car.

"Thank God you're alright," Carol whispered as he gave her a weak smile and began walking towards his wife and son. Her eyes darted to the backseat as Glenn pushed the door open and stumbled out carrying several bags; his clothes were speckled with dark spots of dried blood and his eyes were vacant as he moved past her. Beth and Maggie rushed to help him, and he draped an arm over each of their backs as they lead him slowly to the house. Carol turned back to the car.

_Where is he?_

Hesitantly, she took a step towards the car, and then another… working her way around to the passenger's side. A hot tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled over her lips as she smiled, covering her mouth with both hands. Daryl's head was resting against the glass and his eyes were closed.

_He's here._

She lowered one hand from her face and laid it gently on the window, not caring who saw her.

"Him and Glenn kinda dozed off on the drive back; we ran into some trouble out there and if it weren't for those two… I don't really wanna think about it." Rick called over his shoulder as he walked with Lori and Carl to their tent. Carol nodded, feeling the smile spread wider across her face, another tear fell but she quickly wiped it away.

_He's here._

Her hand was still resting on the cold glass when Daryl's head shot up. Carol jumped, pulling her hand away as Daryl blinked and lazily pushed the door. It swung open but he made no move to rise from the passenger's seat. Carol wasn't sure whether to go or stay… to help him up or do nothing… She kept her smile concealed behind one hand and the other curled tightly around her middle.

"Lord," Daryl groaned as he rubbed his eyes and pushed matted hair from his face. He swung one leg out of the car and then stopped, seeming to notice Carol for the first time. "What?" he muttered, leaning his aching head back against the seat.

For a moment she stood silent, unsure of what to say. "Wanted to see if you all made it back okay." Her soft tone belying the joy that threatened to pour out of her. She averted her gaze, "Looks like you did."

Daryl snorted and swung his other leg out of the car so that he was facing her. He rubbed his stiff neck before hefting the crossbow onto his shoulder and standing. "I guess, but damn that was a long afternoon." He kicked the car door shut and began walking back to camp.

"Let me get that for you," she said, gesturing to the duffle bag slung over his left shoulder. "You look exhausted."

Daryl eyed her suspiciously before handing over the bag and they made their way to camp in silence. "Hell's more like it," he said rubbing his lower back.

"Hmm?" Carol was so content to walk beside him, so grateful for his safety that everything else seemed to fade away, sounds, images… Everything but the warm feeling in her chest.

"I look like Hell."

Carol struggled to keep another smile from spreading across her face and wondered if any statement had ever been less true. She glanced at him when he looked away. There were streaks of dry blood on his face, his neck, his chest… his clothes were covered in dark stains; there were smudges on his jeans where he'd wiped his knife and arrows clean.

"Don't worry," said Daryl as they walked. "Ain't none of it mine."

Carol felt herself blushing. "Who said I was worried?"

Daryl rolled his eyes as they reached his tent. "Just seem like ya do a lot of worryin'." He unzipped the flap and bent to place his bow inside. Carol was still keeping her smile to herself as she tossed the duffle bag in.

"You gonna wash up?" She folded her arms across her chest and looked him over again, trying desperately to appear disapproving.

Fatigue and embarrassment warred within him as he looked away from her. Fatigue won out. "Later. If I don't get some rest I'm gonna drop."

"Suit yourself." Carol raised her hands in defeat and began to walk away. She'd only made it a few yards when he called her.

"Hey."

She stopped but didn't look back, "Yes?"

"Think you could look at somethin' for me?"

Carol sighed and stifled a laugh as she seriously considered saying _anything_.

_Jesus, get a grip Carol. You spent too much time on that damn roof; the sun is getting to you._

She rubbed her temple and called back, "Sure." As she turned back Carol froze.

Daryl stood in front of his tent, the hem of his shirt clenched in his fists as he slowly pulled it over his head. "Thing was fuckin' nasty," Daryl muttered as he threw the shirt through the open flap.

Carol wasn't sure if should avert her eyes or not but she forced herself to move forward. He slumped to the ground just outside the tent and held out his left hand. She sat down beside him.

_Just leave. Leave. You don't need to help him_.

But she found herself reaching for the injured hand, and holding in gently in both of hers.

"Think it's okay?"

The bandaged was soaked through with blood over his palm; the edges of the stain were brown where the blood had dried but the small spot in the center was still bright red. "Well, it's the right color." Carol bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Real helpful," Daryl sighed.

"I'm sorry; it looks fine. I just think you overdid it today; this bandage does need to be changed though. Maybe later I can…" She made the mistake of lifting her eyes from the wound.

His hair was mussed, sticking up in places. He was leaning his head back against the tent and his eyes were closed. A fine sheen of sweat covered him and Carol made herself look away.

"Or Herschel," she added quickly.

"What's that?" He opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Herschel; I'm sure he wouldn't mind changing this for you later." She carefully pressed his fingers over his palms and released the injured hand, letting it fall limply to his side.

"Oh." He stared at the ground, quiet, as he flexed the fingers on his bandaged hand.

With more effort than she cared to admit, Carol rose and turned to leave.

"Just thought ya might wanna do it," he brought a calloused thumb to his lips and began chewing the nail. "Since ya did it before…" His eyes wandered cautiously over her back.

Carol paused, one hand reaching for the cross at her neck. Every fiber of her being wanted to say yes, to tell him she'd be glad to…

_But where would that get you? Stuttering and stammering like a damn teenager? You'd make a fool of yourself if you haven't already. Control yourself and leave him be for God's sake._

"Herschel can do a better job; he has more experience. Get plenty of rest." She left before resolve could crumble and walked hurriedly toward the house.

Daryl watched her go, confusion knitting his brows. As she disappeared through the screen door, the confusion was eclipsed by exhaustion. He ducked into his tent and collapsed on his pile of blankets.

_Women._

He grunted as rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

On the roof of the RV, Andrea sat alone, contemplating the events she'd witnessed… The car… the greeting committee… the walk to camp… the exchange by the tent… She shook her head and smiled to herself realizing that there was no need for her and Carol to finish their conversation.


	11. Thoughts

**So it seems like you all enjoyed the action in the previous chapter and I am so glad! I have never written anything like it as graphically violent action scenes are foreign territory for me; that being said, it was still tons of fun and there is more to come! This chapter will serve as a breather after everything that happened in Close; there will be angst! While I love the awkward, fumbled moments between Daryl and Caryl, I am doing my absolute best to keep everyone in character and make the story believable. This is still meant to be a romance but I don't want the fluff to get out of control lol. I hope that I am doing a decent job of showing the emotional rollercoaster that Carol is on. As always, thank you for taking the time to read and I would love to hear what you think : )**

**Chapter 11: Thoughts**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

The water was cool on Carol's tongue as she leaned against the sink and took a deep drink from her glass. One hand rose to her temple, fingertips feeling the slow pound of thoughts inside her skull.

_ He's alive. They all made it back in one piece... that's what matters._

__She closed her eyes and exhaled, hoping to release some of the tension that had coiled tightly around her organs... But it was useless. Her mind leapt from the bloody hood of the car to Daryl's stained shirt... to that same shirt coming over his head, mussing his hair... and back to all of the blood...

_What happened?_

There was an uncomfortable warmth spreading from her stomach to her chest and quickly creeping up her neck; she took another sip of water.

_What did they see?_

The pounding in her head grew worse as Carol struggled to focus, but the images flit through her mind like sparrows, settling only for a instant. Her blue eyes were vacant as she stared across the empty kitchen, the glass beginning to shake in her sweaty palm.

_I said no... He asked me and I said no._

She ran a hand through her short hair and sank her teeth into her lower lip.

_I had to. I can't keep doing... keep thinking this. I can't..._

Carol turned to face the window, setting her glass down beside the sink. Her hands gripped the counter tightly and she lowered her head, staring down at the dark drain. She stood in silence, listening to her own breathing as relief, exhaustion, anxiety and regret collided in her head, causing a white-hot pain to burst behind her eyes.

_Godammitt. _

Her body stiffened as she heard the screen door squeak on its hinges.

"Carol?"

She sighed, realizing the voice belonged to Andrea.

"In here," she managed, trying to conceal the emotions that were threatening to break free.

Andrea's footsteps fell heavily across the wood floor of the living room; she paused when she reached the kitchen.

"You alright?" Her arms were folded across her chest. "Just kinda disappeared when the car pulled up."

Carol didn't turn to face her but instead focused on the drain, wishing for an instant that she could slip down, into some dark, cool place where she might unravel the thoughts that were winding around themselves, tangled, fraying in her mind.

"Yeah; I just need a minute." Her voice was soft.

Andrea was quiet; waiting.

After a few moments, Carol reached for her glass and held it firmly in both hands as she faced her friend. "I'm glad they're back." Her eyes were on the floor.

Andrea nodded slowly, taking a step towards the island. "Looks like they ran into some trouble out there."

Carol frowned, squeezing the glass so hard that she thought it would shatter.

"Glenn seemed a little out of it... Daryl okay?" The blonde woman stood near the island, her hip resting against the edge.

Carol's head shot up and she eyed Andrea, studying her features and searching for something she couldn't quite name.

"Seems to be." She took another sip of water and stared purposefully past Andrea and into the living room.

The blonde woman let her gaze fall as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Good. I'm glad everyone's alright." She hoisted herself up onto the island and sat with her legs hanging over the edge; her green eyes moved to Carol's face and saw the frustration lingering there. "Sure you're okay? Because if you're not... you know that you can alw..."

"I'm fine," Carol bit out. She set her glass down on the counter and hugged herself hard. "Just getting worked up over nothing." She began pacing slowly in front of the sink, not wanting to look at Andrea. "They're here; they're home... That's all that matters."

Andrea's legs knocked idly against the island as she watched Carol pace. "They're home." She echoed softly. Carol finally stopped and looked at her.

She stared at Andrea, anger flashing in her blue eyes but Andrea stared right back, undaunted by Carol's glare; neither spoke.

Taking a step towards the island, Carol hugged herself tighter and furrowed her brow. "What?" She snapped suddenly, tired of the younger woman's eyes on her.

Andrea frowned, confused.

"What do you want me to say?" asked Carol, irritation plain in her voice.

But Andrea remained silent, staring at the other woman and trying desperately to read the mixed emotions on her face.

"That I'm glad they're back? Of course I'm glad... I'm grateful..." Carol looked at the floor and felt sadness sweep over her, taking the place of her anger.

"But it's not like we can breathe easy is it?" She sniffed, feeling hot tears begin to well up.

"Carol..."

"I mean," She brought both hands to her forehead and held them there. "It's not like this will ever stop." She resumed pacing and felt the kitchen, the entire house, shrinking around her. "They'll always need to make runs... we'll always need things; we can't avoid it..."

Carol walked past the island and Andrea reached out to touch her arm but the older woman didn't seem to see her; she continued to pace, back and forth across the kitchen, her voice dropping to a strained whisper.

"And every time... every time they go... if any of us go... there's a chance that we won't make it back." She pushed her hands through her short hair, nails grazing her scalp. She blinked hard, forcing back tears, willing them not to fall.

Andrea slid from the island and moved towards Carol, closing the gap between them in a few strides. She placed her hands gently on Carol's freckled shoulders, holding her in place. The contact pulled the woman from her trance and she stood still, locking eyes with her friend.

"Carol," Andrea said slowly, "They came back."

Carol chewed her lip and scanned the ceiling with glassy eyes before refocusing them on Andrea. "But what happens when they don't?" She whispered. Her words hung heavy in the air and Andrea stared at her with parted lips, unable to answer. Her hands fell from Carol's shoulders and the two women stood in silence as the afternoon's warm, orange light streamed through the window, falling across the kitchen floor.

Past the living room and down a long hall, a door creaked open. Maggie and Glenn stepped out of the bathroom and walked slowly towards the living room.

"Thanks," he said.

Her hazel eyes narrowed as she stared at him, "For what?"

"Helping me clean up." He kept his gaze on the floor as they walked.

She lifted a soft hand and let it rest gently on her chest, slender fingers grasping at her necklace. "It's fine... You were a mess." A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth; Glenn smiled at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck.

As they entered the kitchen, Andrea and Carol turned to face them, grateful for the interruption. "Hey," said Andrea as she nodded at Glenn. "You doing okay?"

"Just tired... glad to be back."

"Why don't you all head to the dining room? I'll get you some water," said Carol as she reached for the nearest cabinet and searched for a clean glass.

"Thank you," Glenn said softly before they all moved through the kitchen.

Carol pulled a tall glass from the cabinet and held it under the faucet. She listened to the hiss of the water as it rushed into the cup, watched as it rose higher, tiny bubbles bursting, then disappearing on the surface.

_He'll tell us. At least we'll know what happened..._

Her fingers curled around the metal knob as she stopped the flow of water. She closed her tired eyes and pulled a deep breath into her lungs before gripping the glass and heading to the dining room.

The others had taken seats around the long table; Maggie was beside Glenn, her hand covering his. Carol stood behind them, "Here," she said, extending the glass; Glenn turned to accept, nodding as he did so. She rounded the end of the table and pulled out a chair beside Andrea. Resting her hands on the table in front of her, Carol leaned forward and waited for Glenn to lower the glass form his lips. "So," she said, her blue eyes clear and focused, fingers threading together, "What happened?"

Maggie and Andrea stared at Glenn expectantly; he sighed, his eyes on the soft hand that held his own. "It just... went bad." They waited in silence for him to continue. "When we pulled up, the place looked clear... no walkers." He scratched his cheek absently, remembering.

"We had a plan... In and out; we had a list..."

Maggie squeezed his hand.

"There wasn't much left in the pharmacy; we each threw a couple things in our bags but... there just wasn't enough. Then Daryl heard something and we started moving to the back of the store." He took another sip of water.

A crease formed in Carol's brow as she tried to picture them in her mind.

"We jumped over this counter and kept moving; we could all hear it..."

Andrea's arms were folded over her chest as she listened, her eyes following the grain in the wooden table.

"Around the end of this aisle, there was a walker." He shifted in his seat. "It was trapped, caught under a fallen shelf... Daryl took care of it and we thought it was over..." Glenn paused, his eyes vacant.

"Go on," Carol whispered, pleading as she leaned further across the table.

He swallowed before continuing, "But then we saw the others... outside... Maybe they heard the car... followed the noise..."

"How many?" asked Andrea.

"Ten at first... They were all around the car; we couldn't get to it... So I told Rick we needed to draw them away...that someone should head out the back... He volunteered... wouldn't let me go."

Maggie felt him grow tense and began running her thumb over his knuckles.

"Me and Daryl took the front, watching the door... we waited..."

The three women listened as Glenn recounted the day's events, sparing no detail. Carol sat transfixed as he described his and Daryl's struggle to reach Rick through the raging throng of corpses. She kept her face a stony mask, concealing the turmoil in her skull.

_Surrounded... Any one of those things could have..._

She bit the inside of her cheek, her mouth a hard line.

_They're here; they're alive. They're alive..._

Outside, Daryl groaned. Soreness had settled in his limbs and his throat was dry. The splattered walker blood had dried on his skin and was beginning to itch.

_Lord._

He lay on his side and squinted through the rosy light that flooded his tent. As he stared at the wall in silence, Daryl suddenly remembered the pills. His injured hand darted to his pocket and he fumbled for the bottles. He sighed as his fingers closed around the smooth plastic. With a grunt, he forced himself up and sat staring at the bottles; he held one in each hand and counted the contents.

_Twelve... Nine._

He tucked the Oxycontin back into his pocket and moved to unscrew the lid on the second bottle. As he tilted the orange container and watched a white pill slide into his palm he stopped... Daryl frowned, aggravated with himself. His thoughts drifted to Carl... to how pale he'd been lying on that bed with a bullet in his gut... To Merle's severed hand and a trail of blood... And finally to Carol, screaming in his arms as the two of them knelt in the dirt and watched her daughter die. He punched the ground before dropping the pill back into the bottle.

_Best save that shit 'till ya really need it._

He scolded himself and fell onto his back in frustration; the bottle still clutched in his hand. Daryl winced as he flexed his fingers, the center of his palm stinging beneath the soiled bandage. His eyes narrowed as nagging questions wormed their way into his tired mind.

_Why didn't she wanna help?_

He stared hard at the domed ceiling of the tent but it offered no answers.

_Don't matter. Ain't her job. Ya oughtta be takin' care of your own damn hand anyway._

"Daryl?" Someone called just outside the tent.

He propped himself up on his elbows, "Yeah?"

"Got somethin' you might want."

Daryl grunted as he stood and moved to unzip the flap. Rick was waiting for him with a pail of water and a faded, blue washcloth.

"Water's warm; Carol was heatin' it up on the stove."

He wiped the sweat from his upper lip before accepting the pail.

"You know you're more than welcome to get cleaned up in the house."

Daryl stared at the ground as he scratched his neck, "It's fine," he muttered.

Rick's hands were on his hips as he studied the hunter.

_Stubborn ass._

"Alright, have it your way." He handed Daryl the washcloth before turning to leave.

Sighing, Daryl sunk to the ground and dipped the blue cloth into the water. He closed his eyes as he pressed it to his forehead; beads of water rolled slowly down his face, leaving tracks in the layer of grime that covered him.

"Hey," Rick called over his shoulder.

Daryl lifted his head.

"Thank you for your help back there."

Daryl was silent as he rested his elbows on his raised knees.

"If it weren't for you and Glenn..." Rick paused, frowning at the ground. "I don't know that I'd be standin' here... Thank you." Without waiting for an answer he turned away and continued walking towards the farm house.

Left with his thoughts and the clean water, Daryl leaned back against the tent and took a deep breath. The sun dipped lower in the sky, leaving the horizon blazing, red and pink like an angry wound... like a fresh cut, hot and stinging. He wrung out the cloth before soaking it again. The warm water felt good as he wiped his face, scrubbing away as much of the dried blood and dirt as he could. The rag grew darker each time it touched his skin. Daryl worked slowly, enjoying the still silence, the soft grass beneath him and the moment alone. A soft breeze whispered over the fields, cooling the water on his skin but the sensation only served to invigorate him. He sucked clean air into his lungs and pressed the soaking rag to the back of his neck. Tiny, clear droplets slid down his spine, each leaving a smooth trail for those that followed.

Daryl wiped the last smear of blood from his chest and dropped the soiled cloth into the pail; the water had grown murky. He rose stiffly and reentered the tent in search of a shirt. As he rummaged through his things, he found an old wife beater; it had a few holes and was closer to gray than white these days but it was one of the only things left that he felt he could wear in the house. He pulled it over his head and tried halfheartedly to smooth the wrinkles.

_Screw it._

Before leaving, he withdrew the orange bottles from his pocket and tucked them carefully inside his rucksack. Daryl cast a nervous glance back at the bag and then zipped the flap behind him. He walked past his brother's bike, which leaned like an idle sentry against a large oak, and snatched his vest that lay draped over the seat. Slipping the worn leather over his shoulders, Daryl jammed a hand into his left pocket and made his way to the farm house.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw that the others were already gathered. Carol's eyes caught his briefly before he moved to the far wall and leaned against it, trying not to draw any more attention. He lowered his gaze, hooking his thumbs into his pockets; Carol turned away to face Glenn. None of them said a word; they simply listened, mesmerized, horrified, as he recounted the events of the run. Maggie sat beside him, her eyes red, swollen, and rubbed his back softly as he spoke. Daryl let his head fall rest on the wall, he focused on the ceiling as he wondered what Glenn had told them... and what he'd chosen to omit...

Rick and Lori stood behind Glenn's chair. Lori's face grew pale as she listened, her hand going to her mouth as she fought the urge to vomit. Carl and Beth had taken seats near Carol. Daryl frowned, crossing his arms.

_They don't need to hear this._

Another minute passed before Lori had to excuse herself, running from the dining room with a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Carl looked down as his face darkened and Daryl saw Carol place a hand gently on the boy's knee. Her eyes never left Glenn; she continued to nod as he told his story but her hand remained on Carl's knee, a small comfort if nothing else, discreet, unnoticed by the others... But Daryl saw it. He quickly looked away, as if he'd intruded on some private moment between the two of them.

_Spends all her time worryin' about everyone else._

He ran a rough hand over his face and tried to hear what Glenn was saying.

"There were so many... we couldn't see him... We had to follow the sound of the shots..." Glenn's elbows were on the table and he slowly brought his hands up, clasping them under his chin.

"You see where they came from?" Shane asked, stepping forward. He'd been leaning against the wall behind Carol and Andrea's chairs, his baseball cap in his hands.

Glenn blinked before answering, as if noticing Shane's presence for the first time. "Bar... There was a bar across the street. They started coming when they heard Rick's shots..."

Shane nodded, his fingers tight on the bill of his cap, folding it.

"Were you able to find any of the things on the list?" Herschel spoke up from his seat at the head of the table.

Rick scratched the back of his head, "We couldn't bring back as much as we wanted to. I'm sure Glenn mentioned the pharmacy..." His eyes met Herschel's.

The farmer stared back at him, tight-lipped, hoping.

"Too many had been there before us. Ricked kicked absently at the rug, his hands on his hips. "With the walkers comin'..." he sighed, "There wasn't time... We grabbed what we could..."

Herschel nodded, his hands flat on the table. "I thank you, and your people. I'm glad you all made it back safely." He pushed his seat back and stood. "Why don't you show me what you were able to find so I can store it in the guest room with the other supplies?"

Rick turned to walk back through the kitchen and Herschel followed.

"How did you make it through?" Asked Beth, urging Glenn to continue his story. Her legs swung beneath the table, her eyes wide and curious.

Glenn looked at the young girl while he considered his answer.

"There were so many... Daryl and me just had to push our way through... back to back." He glanced sideways at the hunter and the others followed his gaze... all but Carol.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably against the wall, not wanting the attention

"We stayed close. With our backs together, they couldn't creep up on us. We kept our weapons out and just cut a path to Rick..."

Carl lifted his head at the mention of his father.

"When we finally got close... he was fighting off another group... but they had him pinned down..."

Carl's face was stoic as he listened.

"He didn't have any bullets left... had to use his pistol like a club... cracking it against their heads.."

"I think that's enough for now." Carol's voice was soft but firm

as she glanced quickly at Carl and then back at Glenn.

"Hey," said Maggie as she reached out, turning Glenn's face towards her.

He sighed at her touch, bringing his hand up to cover hers as it rested against his cheek.

"It's okay... we shouldn't have asked you to relive all that so soon... You should try to get some rest before dinner." She kissed his forehead and rose, leading him away from the table.

Shane strode to where Carl sat and placed his large hands on the back of the boy's chair. "Carl man, why don't you see if you can help your dad out with those supplies? I'm sure he and Herschel would be glad to have you."

Carl looked up at him and nodded.

"I'll check on Lori," said Beth. She laid a delicate hand on Carl's shoulder before flitting from the dining room. The boy watched her go, letting his gaze linger on her fleeting form for just a second longer than it should have. Shane scratched his head and smiled to himself as he watched Carl continue to stare at the doorway that Beth had just disappeared through. "Hey man," he jerked Carl's chair back playfully, startling him, "Go on. You ain't a whole lotta help to anybody sittin' here." Shane whacked him lightly on the head with his baseball cap. Carl's face reddened and he hurried from the dining room without a word.

"Don't give him a hard time Shane," Carol sighed as she turned in her chair. "It's sweet."

Shane rolled his eyes, laughing. "Does Herschel think so?"

"It's harmless," she said dismissively.

Shane arched an eyebrow as he looked down at her; she looked back, her body twisted in her chair. He slowly shook his head and Carol's face relaxed into a soft smile.

"Last thing that boy needs is some girl gettin' under his skin," said Shane.

"Ain't nothin'," added T-Dog from across the room. "Just some puppy love. Who's it gonna hurt if he follows her around? She ain't payin' him no mind; kid's too young for her." T-Dog chuckled.

Carol's brow furrowed as she listened to the men and their theories regarding Carl and Beth. She placed her hands on the table, fingers splaying as she stood up. Carefully, deliberately, she pushed in her empty chair and turned to face Shane, her arms folded across her chest.

"Don't tease him."

Shane and T-Dog lifted their heads at her words.

"After all," she said, her eyes going to both men in turn, "Age is just a number."

T-Dog's head tilted, his gaze darting from her face to Shane's.

"Guess that's true," Shane agreed, smiling.

"It is." Carol said with finality as she strode from the room, leaving them to their discussion.

Andrea sat at the table, lips parted. She blinked several times and allowed a small laugh of incredulity to escape as the frankness of Carol's statement washed over her. She couldn't help but cast a fleeting glance at Daryl who was still leaning against the far wall, silent. She shook her head, bringing one hand to her temple.

_Just go before you say something._

Andrea followed her own advice. "Think I'm gonna head back to the RV... keep watch until dinner." She hurried past the men, trying desperately to contain the laugh that was about to spill from her.

Daryl chewed the inside of his cheek and replayed the scene in his mind...

_The hell did it mean? Why were they gripin' about age? They're just a couple of kids... And Carol? When did she start talkin' like that?_

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard Shane let out a long, slow whistle. He scratched the back of his head and looked at Daryl, "Women man; what are you gonna do?"

Daryl merely shrugged before pushing himself from the wall and heading for the kitchen. Something about Shane and Carol's exchange gnawed at him as he pushed the screen door open and slumped down on the top step.

_Why'd she smile at him?_

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair.

_Why's it matter?_

_ "_It don't," he mumbled to himself, his elbows resting on his knees.

He stared out at the farm, past the camp, and watched the world get darker. The last rays of afternoon light flared red and purple before fading below the tree line. Daryl sighed, a dull pain forming behind his eyes.

"Feelin' alright?"

Daryl turned to see Herschel standing in the door way. "Fine," he muttered.

The farmer eased the screen door shut behind him and took a seat beside Daryl. "What about your hand?"

The hunter was silent. Herschel studied him for a moment, "Carol said it might need lookin' at."

Daryl stiffened, making sure to keep his eyes on the horizon.

_Woman needs to quit worryin'. Ain't her problem._

"May I see it?" Herschel asked.

Without looking at him, Daryl reluctantly extended the injured hand. Herschel took it carefully in his own and felt the binding. "Looks like she did a good job..." he paused, eyes narrowing as he noticed the stains in the center of Daryl's palm. "But it does need to be changed."

Daryl grunted as he withdrew his hand.

"I can take care of it now if you come back in and bear with me a minute."

"Gonna take long?"

Herschel shook his head.

With that, the two men stood and reentered the house. They crossed the living room and made their way down the long hall, stopping outside the guest room. "I'm tellin' ya it Ain't nothin," Daryl raised his injured hand and let it drop.

"Not now," said Herschel as he held the door open, "But if you don't tend to it it'll get infected."

Daryl rolled his eyes and walked past Herschel.

"Have a seat," the farmer gestured at the bed in the center of the room.

Daryl obliged, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress.

"I really wish we didn't have to spend so much time in here," said Herschel with a heavy sigh. His back was turned as he fumbled in the bedside table and searched for clean gauze. "How's your scar?"

Daryl's hand slid under his shirt and he searched for the tender spot above his left hip. His fingertips traced the small, circular scars left by the arrow, feeling the raised skin. "Seems fine."

"I'm glad to hear that." Herschel turned to face him with fresh gauze and a small cloth in his hand. "I'm just going to run this under some water; I'll be right back." He left, heading for the bathroom across the hall.

Daryl nodded. He stared at the doorway and found himself wishing that someone other than Herschel would walk through it.

_Quit._

He shook his head and tried to ignore the building pressure behind his eyes.

"Alright," said Herschel as he returned with a damp cloth. "See if you can get the bandage off." The farmer was hesitant to initiate any more contact with the younger man than was necessary.

Carefully, Daryl began to tug at the frayed edges of the binding. He managed to loosen one end and slowly unwound the soiled fabric. With each loop of gauze that Daryl pulled from his hand, he was reminded of Carol... Of how calm she was, of how completely focused she'd been while removing the splinter from his swollen palm. He struggled to recall whether anyone had ever been that way with him...

_Fuckin' quit._

He grit his teeth as he peeled the last bit of fabric away from the sticky wound in the center of his hand; the bandage clung to the still drying blood and Daryl finally had to yank it free, hissing to stifle a curse.

The flesh of his palm was pale where the gauze had covered it... wrinkled, damp... He opened and closed his fist as Herschel pulled a chair up to the bedside. "Let me see."

Daryl grudgingly extended his hand and Herschel held it. "Be still and don't fidget," the farmer warned as he began wiping the dried blood away. Daryl refused to look at him. His fingers curled reflexively each time the rag touched his skin. Herschel noted the tension and tried to clean the wound as quickly as possible.

"I'm going to need to apply some pressure, to make sure it's not infected."

Daryl glared at him, his anger rising more from the pain in his head than Herschel's words.

"Just hold still." Herschel's thumbs went to either side of the wound and he pressed, softly at first. Both men watched as a tiny, bead of bright, red blood formed in the center of the cut. Herschel pressed harder, his eyes going to Daryl's face, gauging the reaction. More blood seeped through, the beads flattening as they filled the creases in his palm. "No pus; that's a good sign. Blood looks clean." Herschel dabbed away the blood and reached for the gauze.

As the older man wound the bandage around his hand, Daryl closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to get out of that room... out of the house... He and Herschel both lifted their heads at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Carol and Beth stood in the hall, with Lori supported between them. Her face was pale and covered in a fine sheen of sweat; she took labored breaths as the women stood just beyond the doorway. "She alright?" Herschel asked, his brows knitting together.

"She got sick," said Carol, her eyes meeting Herschel's. "She's tired; we're gonna walk her to her tent... let her lie down for a bit." She didn't allow herself to look at Daryl.

Herschel nodded, "I'll be along to check on her in a while."

Carol tightened her grip around Lori's waist, "Let's go Beth." The women continued to walk slowly down the hall and the sound of their footsteps died away as they reached the living room carpet. Herschel resumed his work on Daryl's hand.

_Never mind how I'm doin'... _

Daryl bristled, angry at her for ignoring him... angry at himself for caring. His blunt nails dug into the bedspread, balling it in a tight fist.

_You ain't her problem, jackass._

"That'll do," said Herschel as he tucked the loose end of the binding snuggly into the rest of the cloth.

Daryl pulled his hand away and rubbed it in his frustration.

Herschel studied him for a moment, "Things alright between you two?"

"What?" Daryl's eyes narrowed as he met Herschel's gaze.

"You and Carol? Things alright?" He repeated as he tossed the soiled bandage into a small waste basket.

"Fine," Daryl snapped, his voice dangerously low. "Why?"

"Just seemed like..."

"Like what?" Daryl's blue eyes burned into Herschel, daring him to say the wrong thing.

Herschel weighed his words as he stood, dragging the chair away from the bed. "Like there was some anger there."

"Ain't _nothin_' there." Daryl hissed as he stood, stepping to Herschel so their faces were inches apart.

The farmer took a slow step back, but kept his eyes on Daryl. The two stood in the center of the room, studying each other... Neither spoke. Daryl felt his skin growing hot as anger simmered just below the surface...

_Ain't none of his damn business._

Feeling the room shrink around him, Daryl finally broke the stare and stalked from the room. Herschel watched him go, a look of concern forming on his face. He stood with one hand on his hip and bowed his head in silent prayer.

_Lord, grant me the strength to deal with these people..._

The air was cool on Daryl's face as he pushed past the screen door and stepped into the early evening. He decided not to linger on the steps, knowing that if he did, one of the others would surely appear, wanting to talk.

_Christ. Talkin'... Seems like every time I turn around there's someone wantin' to talk..._

He made his way across the field towards his tent. As he stormed through the center of camp, a sudden movement caught his eye. Beth and Carol emerged from the Grimes' tent, zipping the flap behind them. Daryl watched them, slowing his pace.

"I think she'll be fine once she gets some sleep," Carol said as she wiped her brow.

"I hope so," sighed Beth. She rubbed her arms, chilled by the cooler air sweeping over the farm.

"Go on inside; it's getting cold."

The girl stared at her, uncertain.

"It's alright; just let Herschel know that she's resting for now."

Beth nodded and started walking back towards the house.

"Thank you for your help," Carol called after her

The girl looked over her shoulder, giving Carol a sad smile.

Daryl continued to watch as Carol lifted her arms and clasped her hands together, stretching. She closed her eyes, rolling her neck slowly from side to side before letting her arms fall to her sides. When her eyes eased open, she sucked in a sharp breath. Daryl was staring at her from across the camp. She quickly dropped her gaze and walked to a nearby log, where she sat with her back to him.

Daryl had resumed his trek to the tent, his cheeks burning, but something made him stop. He frowned, his hands going to his hips as he pushed up dirt with the toe of his boot.

_Farm is too damn small. Can't get away from her... from any of 'em... Dammitt. _

Gritting his teeth, Daryl turned and headed back to the campfire. He walked to one of the larger logs and took a seat.

Carol stiffened at his presence and looked away, trying desperately to focus on something... anything. She stared hard at the glassy surface of the lake, still, perfect. Her hands were clasped together tightly in her lap and she began to turn her wedding band, around and around, feeling the cold metal move over her finger. An anxious sigh escaped her as she felt herself growing warm, despite the chill. She shifted uncomfortably, his eyes burning into her, causing the fine hairs at the back of her neck to stand up.

_God; what does he want?_

Carol's resolve crumbled as fatigue and frustration overcame her; she tore her eyes away from the lake. "What?" She snapped, facing him.

Daryl was taken aback by the anger in her voice and came to the painful realization that he had no idea what to say.

"What do you want?" She demanded, her head tilting to one side as she studied him. "Are you here to check up on me? Like everyone else?"

Daryl was silent.

Carol shook her head and hugged herself. "I can't get five minutes alone without someone thinking I need a babysitter?" Her brows knit together as she glared at him, color rising to her cheeks.

Daryl scratched the back of his neck, and stared into the dark pile of ashes between them. "Ya just..."

"Just what?" Carol snapped. She was leaning forward, her nails digging into the tops of her knees.

"Ya just seem a little off," said Daryl, his voice low as his eyes moved to her face.

Carol rolled her eyes, an angry laugh escaping her lips. She rose from the log and stood with her hands on her hips. "Off?" She laughed again as she began to pace.

_Oh my god... they really do think I'm crazy... All of them..._

She stopped pacing and looked at him, trying to puzzle out his being there. "How _should_ I be acting Daryl?" Her blue eyes narrowed.

Her tone was starting to bother him; his hand throbbed as he gripped the log. "Ya could talk... for starters," he growled.

Carol placed a sweaty palm on her forehead and laughed, her eyes manic. "Now _you're_ telling _me_ to talk more? My god..." She looked around the camp before refocusing on him. "What do you want me to talk about?" She asked, her voice rising. "About this?" She gestured outwards with her hands, at the camp... at their world.

Daryl continued to watch her, the pain behind his eyes growing worse.

"About how we can't sleep through the night without wondering if we'll wake up surrounded by those things? About how we can't beat this?" Her eyes were flashing heat as she locked her hands behind her head. "Maybe we can avoid it for a while, pretend that things are normal, that we can have a life here... but in the end... it's going to kill us. On a run... here... it doesn't matter... death will find us." She hissed. "You... me... Rick...everyone..." An angry tear slid down her face. "There's always going to be a reason for you to go out there," she shook her head, fighting more tears. "Food... medicine... something...and eventually..."

"What?" He snarled, standing and moving towards her. She stood her ground, glaring at him.

"Ya bitchin' because somethin' _might_ happen? I know it will... I know how this ends." His arms spread outwards. "But I'm tryin' to hold it off as long as I can." He spoke through clenched teeth as his eyes locked on hers. "We ain't out there takin' joyrides." He took another step forward. "We ain't tryin' to leave ya'll here worryin'..."

"I never said I..."

"Yeah ya did." His eyes were blue slits.

He ran a hand over his face in exasperation, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, "We're out there," he pointed behind them, beyond the dark tree line, "tryin' to make things better... before it all goes to hell."

Carol swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was, seething, towering over her in the dark. The aggravation was hot on her tongue as she bit out her next words, "I know you all are doing what needs to be done I just.."

"What?" He snapped, his hands on his hips.

She dropped her gaze to the ground for a moment and listened to his breathing as he stood in front of her. She closed her eyes and pulled her short hair before forcing herself to look at him again. "I hate watching you leave," she hissed, her eyes locking on his.

Daryl stared at her and fumbled for more words as he struggled to process what she'd said.

_Watchin' me leave?_

He bit his lip before responding. "That why ya ain't said shit to me since I got back?"

The words stung as he flung them at her. She looked at the night sky, realizing that there was no good answer. Daryl stood waiting for her.

_I can't do this..._

She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and turned to leave. Before she'd taken three steps there was a crushing pressure on her arm as Daryl's fingers closed around her wrist. Her eyes grew wide as he jerked hard, pulling her back to face him. She stared in disbelief, lips parted as he maintained his grip on her wrist, the pressure hurting her as she tensed at the contact.

"We ain't done here," he hissed. Her skin was hot under his fingers and he could feel the energy humming where he held her. They stared at each other through the dark and Carol's heart strained against her ribs... whether from fear or something else... she wasn't sure. He watched as a bead of sweat slid down her temple and disappeared beneath her jaw line.

_Fuck. The hell are you doin'?_

His grip on her loosened for an instant. Carol blinked, breaking the connection. "Yes," she grunted, jerking free and rubbing her aching wrist. "We are." Without another words she turned away and headed for the RV. Daryl stood alone beside the ashes of the fire, blood still pounding in his ears. His breathing gradually slowed as he watched Carol slip into the RV.

_Christ..._


	12. Spark

**Wow! You guys are awesome! The last chapter had the most reviews so far... I'm guessing you all liked the feistiness between Daryl and Carol around the camp fire : ) I did too! Lol! Not to worry; there's more heat, feistiness and of course, ANGST ahead! This chapter has one of the longest sequences of Daryl and Carol interaction thus far so please let me know what you think of it! Thank you so much for the reviews and for taking the time to read! Next chapter will have plenty of walker action! Also, thank you for being patient; I really want to be able to update more often but I don't get as much time to write as I'd like : ( I hope everyone is enjoying season 3... Even though there hasn't been nearly enough Caryl!**

**Chapter 12: Spark**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

Andrea heard the door slam as someone entered the RV.

_Carol?_

She lay sprawled on a blanket, keeping watch on the roof when the sudden sound broke her concentration. She propped herself up on one elbow and considered climbing down to check on her friend.

_Don't. Leave her alone..._

Sighing, Andrea tightened her grip on the rifle and refocused on the wood line.

_She just needs some space._

In the safety of the RV, Carol leaned against a wall, breathing hard. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated with shock and fear. She swallowed, straining to see her wrist through the gloom. The muscles in her stomach tightened as she saw the red marks where his fingers had sunk into her skin. Biting her lips to stifle a sob, she closed her eyes and sank slowly to the floor. As her back slid down the wall, Carol felt herself crumble. She sat shaking and drew her knees into her chest, thin arms wrapping around them.

_Why? Why are we doing this? What's the point...?_

She slammed a small fist against the floor.

_What does he want from me?_

She lowered her head, resting it gently on her knees

_I don't know what to do..._

Her teeth clenched as tears rolled down her cheeks; quiet sobs wracked her frame and she trembled. The RV was silent except for the sound of her strained breathing. In the dark, Carol hugged her knees tighter, compressing herself...wanting to disappear. A lone tear slid between her lips and she hesitantly licked away the salt.

"Where do we go from here?" She whispered into her knees as she struggled to catch her breath.

Daryl stood cursing himself beside the ashes of the campfire. He fumed as he stared down at his hand through the dark, wondering what could have possessed him to grab her...

_Like ya got any right..._

His hand balled into a fist at his side, surging with angry energy. He scanned the camp, searching for something, anything that he might drive his white knuckles into...but there was nothing... Daryl was alone, frustration licking up his legs like flames...driving him forward. He began walking across the field, towards the RV, but he stopped when he saw movement on the roof...

_Andrea... Shit._

The hunter exhaled slowly, hoping that he and Carol's exchange hadn't reached the blonde woman keeping watch... Daryl clenched his jaw.

_All these damn people dyin' and the world just keeps gettin' smaller..._

The irony was bitter on Daryl's tongue and he spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. To the left, he could make out his tent beneath the low branches of a gnarled tree; Merle's bike gleamed in the moonlight. His small corner of the farm beckoned him, promising relief... privacy... a quiet place to think... Ahead lay the RV, their shabby watch tower... Carol's chosen refuge...

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the night sky.

_ Lord..._

His hand remained on his neck, rubbing absently as he found himself moving forward once more. The group would be getting dinner ready soon and Daryl grimaced at the thought of being surrounded by people. Crickets began to chirp as he made his way across the field, his footsteps heavy on the damp grass. He stopped as he reached the camper, his hands going to his hips as he called out to Andrea, "Hey."

She leaned over the edge of the roof and squinted through the dark

_Daryl?_

** "**What's up?"

"Just wonderin' if ya needed a break."

Andrea's brow furrowed as she stared down at him.

He wiped his nose and shifted awkwardly, "Heard ya been up there all day..."

Her eyes scanned the camp before resting on him, "Sure; I guess." She stood, stretching. "If you're up for it."

Daryl walked to the back of the RV and began climbing the ladder. Andrea extended a hand and he took it, hoisting himself onto the roof. She thrust the rifle into his arms before kneeling to reach the top rung.

"Alright," said Andrea as she lowered herself down the ladder, "Just call out if you need anything; I'm pretty sure Carol is in there."

Daryl nodded, his eyes on the tree line. He heard a soft thud as Andrea hopped from the bottom rung; she headed for the farm house, her form growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Daryl exhaled, sinking down to the rough blanket that Andrea had lain out. He sat with his legs crossed, the rifle resting in his lap.

_Focus._

He reached for the binoculars and brought them to his face, searching for any sign of movement near the trees.

_Nothin'..._

He slowly released the breath he'd been holding and laid down the binoculars. His hands were splayed on either side of him, fingers digging into the blanket. Frogs began to croak and Daryl hung his head, listening. He closed his eyes, hanging on to the familiar sound as he tried to keep his thoughts from drifting to the woman in the RV... just beneath his feet.

"He alright?" Asked Glenn, nodding in the direction of the Winnebago.

Rick followed his gaze and saw Daryl pacing on the roof, a rifle in his arms.

"I think so. Just needs some time." Rick continued to stoke the small fire that they'd started.

The two men looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps; Maggie and Andrea were walking towards camp, each carrying something.

"I got it," said T-Dog as he rose from his log to meet the women. "Let me," he said as he took a stack of plates from the Greene girl.

"Thank you." Maggie gave him a weak smile.

"Not a problem. What about you? Need any help?" He turned to Andrea and pointed at the large pot in her arms.

"Think I can handle it, but thanks," she smiled.

T-Dog nodded and led them back to the camp. "Soup's on," he said as he began handing plates to those gathered around the fire. Maggie passed out the silverware.

"Alright," said Andrea as she made her way around the circle, ladling out the contents of the pot. She caught Carl's eyes as he held out his plate; the boy looked so pale... She slid him a few extra pieces of meat and he stared sheepishly at the ground.

"Thank you," said Rick after she'd served him. He stared down at his plate in silence.

"Should we wake Lori?" Andrea asked, casting a glance at the Grimes' tent.

Rick ran a hand through his hair, "No... She needs to rest. I'll fix her a plate when she's up and about.

Andrea nodded before setting the pot down and taking a seat on one of the logs. T-Dog approached her, offering a plate and the two helped themselves to the venison. "Even better the next day," he laughed as he shoved a forkful of meat into his mouth. Andrea took a small bite and smiled in agreement. She chewed slowly, gazing across the fire at Glenn and Maggie. They shared a small log, their knees touching. Occasionally, Maggie would lean over to place a small kiss on his shoulder or carefully smooth his dark hair. He repaid the kindness by nudging her foot or giving her knee a gentle squeeze. Their touches were simple, those of grateful lovers, friends, taking comfort in each other's company. Andrea felt warmth spread through her chest as she watched them.

"Where's Carol?" Rick asked suddenly; Andrea tore her eyes from the young couple.

"In the RV."

"She okay?" Asked Carl, concern passing like a shadow over his face.

The others looked at Andrea, waiting for an answer.

"She will be. I think she was just a little rattled after hearing what happened on the run."

"She's not gonna eat?" Carl stared at her, his blue eyes wide.

Andrea clasped her hands, her plate resting on the log beside her.

"I'll take her some later; I think she wants to be left alone for a while." Her voice was soft as she spoke. Carl's gaze returned to his plate and he pushed the remaining pieces of meat around with his fork. Rick reached out and laid a hand on his son's back.

"Everyone's gonna be fine... Just a rough day."

"Your old man's right," said Shane. He'd taken a seat on the ground, his back against one of the larger logs, legs stretched in front of him. "Your mom 'n Carol, they'll be alright. How 'bout you finish up so you can help me take these dishes in?"

"Okay," Carl answered without looking up.

They continued their meal in silence, listening as the small fire snapped and hissed. One by one, they finished eating; Carl made his way around the circle accepting the greasy dishes and stacking them as best he could. As she rose to leave, Andrea noticed three remaining, clean plates stacked beside T-Dog.

_Daryl, Carol and Lori..._

She quickly lifted the first dish and spooned a generous portion of meat onto it. "Here; for her." Andrea handed the plate to Rick who took it gingerly in his hands; he looked up at her, his green eyes offering a silent thank you. She returned her attention to the last two plates and divided what was left of the meat between them.

"I'll be back; I'm gonna take them some food," she gestured towards the RV.

T-Dog nodded as he lifted the pot and handed it to Shane. The silverware clinked as the others placed it on top of the stacked plates in Carl's arms. "C'mon," said Shane, nudging the boy's shoulder; the two walked slowly back to the house.

"I'm thinkin' about walkin' the perimeter when Shane gets back." Rick brought his hands to rest under his chin and looked at T-Dog.

"Need help?"

"It would be much appreciated." Rick's voice was low, strained with exhaustion.

"Sure." T-Dog stood, rubbing his hands together. "Just you, me 'n Shane?"

Rick nodded, quiet understanding passing between them.

"Think you can keep an eye on things here?" The deputy's green eyes rested on Glenn.

"Yeah...of course," Glenn said softly.

"Alright then; I'm gonna check on Lori." Rick rose stiffly from the log and made his way to his family's tent; he carried the plate that Andrea fixed for his wife.

Pausing at the door of the camper, Andrea set one of the plates carefully on the ground. She reached for the handle and pulled slowly, not wanting to disturb Carol if she was resting. She stood on the steps and whispered, "Carol?" There was no answer. Andrea craned her neck, catching a glimpse of her friend's limp form in the back room. She lay above the sheets, sleeping fitfully, jerking and twitching every so often, as if trapped in a vivid nightmare. Andrea sighed and placed the dish carefully on the counter before retreating down the steps and closing the door behind her.

She knelt down to retrieve Daryl's plate and wondered if she should have woken the sleeping woman. Doubt began to gnaw at her as she climbed the ladder awkwardly with one hand, the other cradling the dish. When she reached the top rung, Andrea set the plate down on the roof. Daryl turned when he heard her, his eyes darting to the food. "Thanks," he muttered, his grip tightening on the rifle.

"You're welcome. You okay up here?"

He nodded.

"Rick's taking Shane and T-Dog to walk the perimeter so you'll have some extra eyes out there. Should help."

Daryl grunted in response and continued to pace. She drummed her fingers lightly on the roof, not knowing what else to say. Giving up, Andrea gripped the edges of the ladder and eased her way down. Once on the ground, she placed a palm on her forehead... her thoughts going to the damaged woman in the RV and the brooding man that kept watch above her.

_Leave it alone. Whatever it is... you can't fix it._

She hugged herself and walked back to the safety of her own tent.

Carol moaned softly as she tossed and turned on the worn mattress. Her mind was clouded with grief, fatigue...want... The last thing she remembered was hearing voices...footsteps on the roof... She'd forced herself off the cold floor and stumbled to the small room in the back of the camper, finally falling into bed. She was sweaty, the sheets tangled around her bare legs.

_God..._

Alone in the dark, Carol sat up. Salt had dried on her lashes and she blinked several times as she struggled to open her eyes. The air was stale in the cramped room and her mouth felt dry. She leaned back, resting against the cool wall as she waited patiently for her head to stop spinning. Massaging her temples, she wondered at the hour...

_How long was I out?_

She considered getting up but her limbs were heavy. Cursing softly, she kicked away the sheet and bent her knees. The sun burn on the back of her legs stung and she grimaced. One hand dropped, fingertips gently grazing the back of her thigh...the skin still warm from her afternoon on the roof. She made a mental note to ask Herschel for some aloe if he had any.

Carol sat in silence, biting her bottom lip. Her hand slid from her temple to her neck and she began to rub it, easing away the soreness. She cocked her head to one side, straining to hear the others...

_Nothing... Is everyone in bed? Who's on watch?_

The questions suddenly faded from her mind and her eyes widened as she remembered her wrist. She lifted it to her face and studied the marks, her breath catching in her throat. Squinting through the gloom, she saw that the red impressions of Daryl's fingers were beginning to bruise, the crimson prints turning purple... She held her wrist gently, images of their argument flashing through her mind... Blue eyes burning, angry... hers... his... the closeness...the smell of sweat...

_Whose?_

She wasn't sure... Hot words bursting from chapped lips, hurled carelessly into the dark... and then pressure... Carol's pulse quickened as she held her wrist, blood pounding painfully beneath the tender flesh. She sucked her bottom lip, and closed her eyes, trying to will away the blurred snapshots in her mind. Her toes curled, digging into the soft mattress.

Aggravated she knocked her head against the wall, fresh pain forcing some of the clutter from her crowded skull. Her eyes eased open and she ran a hand over her face, fingers pausing over her lips.

_I can't leave it...we...can't leave it like this..._

She peeled herself from the wall and crawled to the nearest window. Her fingers gripped the sill and she stared across the field at an abandoned campsite. The fire had died down... a small trail of smoke rose from the ashes and wound upwards, gray tendrils unraveling in the night air. Further in the distance she could see the farm house, dark, quiet. A sense of loneliness crept into her chest and she sighed, her breath clouding the glass.

_Someone must be on watch... Andrea? T-Dog... somebody..._

They didn't have to talk. She just wanted company... Some other presence to take her mind off all of the things she couldn't change… couldn't control... She frowned, recalling how she'd snapped at Andrea in the kitchen.

_She was just trying to help._

Carol found herself wishing that the blonde woman _was _on watch. It had been nice to relax, if only a little... to begin to open up to someone... Someone who understood loss... Being on the roof with Andrea was the closest Carol had come to feeling normal in such a long time...

Her hands fell from the sill to rest on her thighs. Sitting back on her heels, Carol considered her next move. She bit the corner of her lip and tapped her fingers... thinking.

_I have to get out of here._

She gave a small grunt as she forced herself to stand, her head nearly hitting the low ceiling. She staggered out of the small room and stood bracing herself in the doorway. Her wrist throbbed as she leaned against the wall and cold fear twisted in her gut. How was she supposed to hide it? She eyed the marks, dark, ugly against her pale skin.

_How do I explain it?_

Whoever was on the roof would surely notice. Carol hesitated in the doorway, a crease forming in her brow. She tried tugging at the sleeves of her cardigan but they weren't long enough to conceal the bruises.

_Dammitt._

Feeling stifled by the close walls of the RV, Carol gritted her teeth and kept walking.

_It's dark... they won't be able to see..._

As she crossed the length of the Winnebago, she noticed a plate of food that someone had left on the counter.

_Andrea._

She plucked a piece of meat from the plate and popped it into her mouth.

_Cold..._

She chewed slowly, wondering how long ago the food had been left there. Carol grabbed a second piece of meat before heading down the steps and pausing in front of the door. She sucked the grease from her fingers and leaned against the door, pushing it open as gently as she could. There was a dull squeak as it swung outwards and Carol hissed, feeling the cold, damp grass beneath her bare feet as she hopped from the lowest step. Carefully, she held onto the edge of the door as she eased it back into place, wincing as it clicked shut. She had no desire to wake anyone, as sleep was not an easy thing to come by.

Holding her breath, Carol crept over the grass, feeling the slick blades push up between her toes. As she stood before the ladder, Carol ran a hand through her short hair. She stared at the ground, wondering if she should go back inside.

_No. _

The cool air pressed against her neck and legs, soothing the reddened skin. She was wide awake and had abandoned all hope of a decent night's sleep. She moved forward, her fingers curling around the sides of the ladder. Her foot slipped on the metal rung but she caught herself. Stifling a curse, she continued to climb until she reached the roof. As her hands glided over the curved edges of the ladder she froze, her eyes narrowing. Andrea was _not_ on watch...

Carol's stomach seemed to drop through her as she stared through the dark at Daryl. Her lips were parted and her tongue felt thick as she fumbled for words...a single word... anything. He sat with his back to her, the wings on his vest creasing over his shoulder blades. He was so still...

_Maybe he didn't hear me..._

Carol blinked hard, mastering herself. She carefully began to climb back down but one of the rungs creaked under her weight. A curse slipped from between her teeth as she heard him move. He stood quickly and spun around, searching for the source of the noise. His brow furrowed when he saw her.

For a moment, the two locked eyes, neither knowing what to say. Daryl cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "What're ya doin'?" He took a step back, the rifle in his arms.

Carol ran her thumbs over the smooth metal railing, unsure of whether to move up or down the ladder. She kept her gaze lowered as she answered, "Couldn't sleep..."

Daryl frowned, backing further away; the roof groaned beneath his heavy footsteps. Carol watched him, curious. He kept walking until he was clear on the other side of the roof, putting space between them. Understanding flickered across her face and she bit the inside of her cheek.

_I'm making him uncomfortable..._

She almost laughed at the idea. _She _was the one with bruises... Her mind made up, Carol gripped the ladder and clambered onto the roof. Daryl bristled; his back was facing her again. She claimed a corner, and sat with her legs crossed.

_What now?_

Daryl stared hard at the tree line without actually seeing it.

_Why in the hell is she up here?_

He grunted as he slumped down, his legs hanging over the side of the roof.

_Christ._

Carol's mouth was a hard line as she studied him. She thought at any moment that he might go... find someone to relieve him... but he didn't. He simply sat there...staring. She lifted a finger to her lips and gently bit the nail as more realizations entered her head.

_He won't leave... If he leaves, he's giving in._

She cast a furtive glance sideways; he wouldn't look at her. Her gaze dropped and she caught the tip of her nail between her teeth, applying more pressure.

_When has he ever given in?_

The moon hung low in the sky, its light shone silver on the wet grass. Carol gazed at it, her eyes clear, focused. Her finger fell from her lips and for one quiet moment she forgot her troubles. She inhaled deeply, smelling the dirt, the woods...clean air.She pulled the evening into her lungs and held it there, savoring the stillness...the peace. Finally, she released the trapped breath; it was warm as it passed her lips and she leaned back, hands splaying at her sides.

"Why are ya here?" He asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

Carol turned to look at him; his head was lowered as he rubbed at a hole in his jeans.

"Why does it matter?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

Daryl's jaw clenched as he glared at her.

"I already told you I couldn't sleep; I have as much right to be up here as you do," she snapped.

His blood pressure rose and he slammed the rifle down on the roof, making her jump. He waited, but she made no move to leave. Her eyes shone through the dark. "Ain't got time for this shit," he muttered under his breath and stomped across the roof. As he crossed the halfway point, Carol flinched; the action stopped him. She had an arm raised, shielding her face...

_From what?_

Daryl stood stock still, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her. Her arm was thin, pale... she was shaking. His eyes moved over the milky skin, the muscles in his gut clenching painfully when he saw the marks... He frowned, bringing his hands behind his head.

_No..._

He quickly looked away and then back; they were still there... five bruises, awful, blatant on her small wrist.

_No..._

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, fingers locking together at the base of his neck. He took several deep breaths before easing his lids open.

When she heard his footsteps stop, Carol lowered her arm. Her body remained tensed as she watched him; her breaths were quick and shallow. Shame swept over her as she laid her hand down on the rough blanket, barely feeling the fabric under her fingers... She'd let him see her fear... cowering like a damn animal... His eyes were locked on something and she hesitantly followed his gaze to her wrist... Sucking in a sharp breath, Carol quickly pulled her arm to her chest and covered the marks with her other hand. She kept her head down and tried desperately to stop trembling.

Daryl stood paralyzed... disgusted with himself. He stared at the frightened woman and noticed for the first time how small she was...how thin... He ground his teeth as pain, or the memory of pain, began to spark across every last one of his scars. He seemed to look past her slight frame and into his own youth... remembering the thud of a belt buckle as it bit into his shoulder, the hiss of a cigarette eating away at the pale underside of his arm... the feeling of air being knocked from his lungs as a heavy boot collided with his ribs with the force of a sledge hammer...

_Fuck..._

Bile was rising at the back of his throat. When he left home... when he finally got away from it all... he swore he'd never raise a hand to anyone that didn't ask for it... and here he was...

_Ya leavin' marks on her now?_

His own voice echoed, harsh, angry in his skull.

_Gonna be like him? That it?_

He closed his eyes again, trying to force the noise from his head. "No!" He said aloud, tugging at his hair.

Carol was rubbing her wrist, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tried to decide whether she should stay or go

"No! No!" He repeated, pressing his palms to his eyes.

She watched him, confused. Her body was beginning to ache as the trembling continued.

Through the storm in his head, Daryl sensed her eyes on him… fixed on him… He could feel it… like a physical touch, intrusive…unwelcome.

His hands balled into hard fists and he lifted one foot before bringing it down hard on the metal roof. "Godammitt!" He stomped in her direction, closing the gap between them.

Carol scrambled backwards until her back was at the edge of the roof. With glassy eyes she stared at him; adrenaline shot through her like blue fire, burning in her chest and throbbing in her fingertips. There was nowhere to go…

He loomed over her, his upper lip curling back in a snarl. She saw his knuckles turning white, fists clenching tighter… Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths and the blanket was sliding beneath her as she scooted closer to the edge… She tried to look away but couldn't…

"What do ya want?!" He yelled at her, one arm swinging wildly in the air before falling to his side with a smack.

She winced as his words flew down at her, sharp, bitter.

"Why're ya fuckin' lookin' at me like that?" His eyes were boring into hers, seeking answers she wasn't prepared to give.

Carol opened her mouth but couldn't speak, her lower lip quivered and she felt his gaze pinning her to the roof…trapping her… She forced herself to move back, no more than an inch…just a little more space between her body and his.

The tiny movement was not lost on Daryl and he dropped to a crouch in front of her, slamming a fist down hard on the roof. Carol's breath caught in her throat as she felt the vibration from the impact beneath her splayed fingers. The sound seemed to resonate through the quiet camp but Daryl was past caring. He stared at her… She was breathless, fingernails clinging to the blanket, knees drawn to her chest… She was scared… Fresh rage bubbled up through Daryl's chest. "What're ya 'fraid of woman?!" He hissed at her, his drawl surfacing…

She never took her eyes from him. Spittle glistened on his lower lip as his breathing grew heavy. Color had risen to his face and the anger was rolling off of him in waves. He huffed, impatient for answers...But Carol's mind was blank…His gaze was locked on her, eyes cold like chips of blue ice beneath his lashes. She swallowed, feeling sweat pool in the well of her throat and behind her knees.

_Go…Go now! _

Needing to get away, Carol reached behind her without breaking eye contact. Her hand sought purchase on the ladder rail but found none; fingers groped at empty air and her chest tightened as she lost her balance. Her stomach lurched as she felt herself tipping over the edge. She looked into the black sky as her head fell back and her body arched into nothingness. Too startled even to scream, her mouth hung open as her arm continued to flail in the dark. Fresh adrenaline coursed through her, speeding through veins and shocking the heart as her feet lifted from the roof to follow the rest of her body.

_No!_

One arm reached forward, fingers stretching outwards to find Daryl but she wasn't fast enough. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact, already feeling the phantom pain prickling down her spine. Stomach and heart jumped into her throat, stifling screams. As she fell backwards through darkness, everything stopped… Breathing…the pounding of her heart…the adrenaline cooling in her limbs… all other sensation simply died and the only thing she was conscious of...that _mattered_…all that _existed_ in that moment was pressure.

Daryl saw her hand slip… saw the look of shock on her face as she began to fall. A pale hand was reaching out to him and he lurched forward, his fingertips grazing hers…missing…

_Shit!_

He clenched his jaw as he pushed himself further, stretching until his hands found her. He grunted, his fingers pressing into her hips.

Carol sucked in a painful breath, her body jerking as Daryl stopped the fall. Her upper half hung over the edge of the roof, arms limp on either side of her head. She couldn't speak…or think…at least not about anything but the pain in her hips…and what caused it.

"C'mon!" Daryl yelled down at her as he began to pull.

Carol blinked and tried to focus as she used all of her strength to curl her body upwards while he tugged. She hissed as he jerked her roughly over edge, scraping her back through her shirt.

"Fuck…" he breathed once she was safe on the roof.

Carol lay on her back, catching her breath as her mind continued to reel. Daryl's knees were locked on either side of her…his hands still gripping the soft flesh of her hips. He hovered over her, panting.

_What're ya doin'?_

His eyes were closed and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Seconds passed but neither moved. Daryl's fingers twitched and he felt Carol tense. Her skin was warm under his hands. The anger that had been coursing through him flickered for an instant and his blunt nails sunk into her. He heard her take in a sharp breath.

_So damn fragile… Always tryin' to get herself hurt…_

His temper flared again and he pressed his knees tighter against her sides, cursing her inwardly for her carelessness. She gasped and made a feeble attempt to move her legs but she was trapped. As he held her in place, Daryl grunted, a new sensation moving through him…satisfaction. Something, some dark part of him relished the idea of control, of knowing that she couldn't leave… couldn't move…

_So small… Don't weigh nothin'…_

That warmth under his hands…it crept up his arms, into his chest, his brain… it was everywhere…spreading…like blood poisoning.

_Shit…_

Carol squirmed as she felt his nails digging into her flesh. Her hands splayed over the blanket and she struggled to prop herself up. Her back stung as she moved, forcing her eyes open. She stopped breathing when she saw him, hunched over her waist, his thumbs pressing into the crease where her thighs met her pelvis. His head hung low as if the thoughts it held were too heavy for him and his knees were gripping her…holding her there... Carol's lips parted and her brows knit together as she fought to comprehend what she saw…what she felt…

_What's happening?_

She was afraid to speak, to say anything that might cause him to break the contact. She swallowed, her skin searing where he held her.

Daryl's head was pounding and he could feel the energy radiating from the woman beneath him. Another second passed and he ground his teeth, warring with himself.

_Let go._

But the blood was hot in his veins; a bead of sweat fell from his brow, crashing to her stomach. He could smell the sharp tang of fear coming from her and it clouded his brain… His thoughts ran like wet paint, smudged, blurry behind his eyes… It was too much. He lifted his head only to find her blue eyes fixed on his. Daryl's lips parted as he watched her watching him.

_Christ…_

Carol's heart beat itself mercilessly against her ribs as their eyes met. For an instant, they held the connection. She shuddered as she felt him look at her, through her… Panic shot through Carol's body like ice water…

_He'll see…_

Her eyes grew wider as she imagined all of her secrets, every selfish, pointless, absurd carnal thought, every wasted hope…every ounce of burning need written on her face…laid bare for him to see…

_He'll know._

She needed to get away from him; her senses were rioting as she struggled to make herself move…

_He's so close…_

His proximity was maddening; every cell in her body was screaming, begging for closeness, for pressure…but it was wrong; she knew it was… Carol couldn't tear her eyes from his, couldn't leave…

_This…it has to… I have to stop it._

The words were slurred in her aching head but she heard them… Before another wave of heat could roll through her Carol clenched her jaw and blinked, breaking the connection. She grunted as she began to pull away from him, her mind growing foggy as she slid her leg past his.

Daryl fell from the trance the moment her eyes left his. He shook his head and hissed as he felt her smooth leg glide past him, grazing his inner thigh. As the haze cleared around him he released her hips and stood, taking a step back.

Finally free, Carol sat with her legs crossed and hugged herself. She shivered and waited for her pulse to slow.

Daryl wiped at his mouth and coughed; his eyes on the tree line. He placed his hands on his hips and took another step back. "Ya alright?" He asked, his voice low.

Carol looked at him then dropped her gaze. "Yeah; I think so. Just hurt my back," she said softly.

He spat over the side of the RV and paused before answering. "Lemme see."

She eyed him again, brows knitting together in confusion.

"C'mon." He motioned for her to stand.

Slowly, Carol rose and moved towards him on shaky legs, her arms still wrapped tightly around her torso. She stood in front of him, her eyes on his boots.

"Lemme see."

Taking a deep breath, Carol turned around, painfully aware of the fact that she was still shaking.

"Easy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to relax.

Carefully, Daryl reached forward and grabbed the hem of her shirt.

Carol closed her eyes as she felt his fingers resting on her lower back.

_It's nothing…He just needs to see how bad it is._

Daryl watched her as he held the worn fabric between his fingers; he paused, waiting for approval.

"It's alright; go ahead," said Carol, one of her hands reaching up to rub her neck.

Slowly, Daryl began to lift her shirt, revealing pale, milky skin.

Carol shivered as cool air pressed against her back. Daryl continued to tug at the hem, pushing the fabric up to her ribcage. He felt the curvature of the bones beneath his fingers as moved the shirt up her sides. She seemed so fragile… he studied the ridges of her spine as he pushed the shirt up further.

"Don't," she said, feeling the hem just below her breasts.

"Sorry," Daryl muttered, horrified, his hands still clutching the fabric.

"It's alright…Does it look bad?" She whispered.

He looked down, studying her. Through the darkness Daryl could make out a large mark across the center of her back. He held her shirt up with one hand and let the other trail down to her wound.

Carol sighed as his fingertips slid back over her ribs and down to the painful spot on her spine.

He ran his thumb gently over the scrape, feeling the skin that had been rubbed raw when he pulled her back onto the roof. When he lifted his hand to his face, he couldn't see any blood. "Bad scrape, but ya ain't bleedin'…kinda looks like rug burn…probably gonna be red for a while." He let go of her shirt.

Carol tugged at the hem, covering her wound. She was silent as she attempted to smooth the wrinkled fabric over her stomach. "Thanks," she said without turning to face him.

Daryl cleared his throat and walked back to his side of the roof; Carol reclaimed her corner. The two sat in silence, doubt filling the space between them. A cool breeze whipped over the field and Carol tugged the cardigan tighter over her shoulders; grass shimmered in the moonlight as the soft breath of night stole across it. Thoughts, feelings and unspoken words swirled in her head as if the wind had breached the walls of her consciousness, stirring the contents. She sighed, waiting patiently for everything within her to settle quietly like dead leaves on the forest floor.

Daryl's elbow was resting on his knee, one hand lazily covering his mouth

_Damn._

The scene replayed in his tired mind, startling in its clarity. He saw the color draining from her face as she began to tip backwards… Her eyes going wide, fear flashing in the blue irises… One small foot lifting from the roof, toes curled in panic… Slender white fingers stretching out to find him…

He opened and closed his free hand, still feeling the warmth of her skin like a residue on his palm. Narrowing his eyes, Daryl turned to look at her. She was rubbing her wrist, her thumb moving in slow circles over the largest bruise. Something churned inside him and he dropped his gaze, hands coming together in his lap. "Sorry," he muttered into the dark, his head lowered.

Carol's hand froze on her wrist and she stared at him. "What?"

"I'm sorry…" he paused, his fingers locking together, "'bout that." He cast a sideways glance at her arm. She followed his gaze.

"It…It's alright...," she faltered, unsure of how to respond.

"It ain't."

Carol reached down to pull at a loose thread on the blanket. "You didn't mean…"

"Don't matter," he growled softly.

"I shouldn't have been yelling at…"

Daryl's temper flared, "Ya gotta quit bein' sorry for shit… Always makin' excuses for everyone when they don't deserve it." His voice was a heated whisper.

She forgot the loose thread and watched him.

"Ya got the same rights as everybody else… Ya feel like yellin' then yell; don't go apologizin' after." He rapped his knuckles on the hard roof. "Shouldn't have grabbed ya like that…wasn't tryin' to hurt ya."

Carol looked out at the wood line, as if an answer waited there. "Think we just got caught up in the argum…"

"Jesus Carol!" He snapped, making her look at him. "Don't matter how caught up I was…we were…Ain't cause to lay a hand on ya. Stop actin' like ya deserve that shit… I ain't Ed." He ran a hand through his hair, fingers curling into a fist at the back of his head.

Carol didn't know what to say. She studied the purple marks on her wrist before looking back at his face. He wore a frown as he continued to rap his knuckles absently on the roof and avoid her stare. Something softened in Carol as she finally realized what plagued him…

_Guilt._

She lifted two fingers to her lips and gazed up into the dark belly of the evening. A sob was forming in her throat as she failed to recall even one instance in which Ed had felt guilty for hurting her… A single tear formed like a jewel at the corner of her eye, quivering before it fell. She looked again at the man who sat stony and sullen on the other end of the roof, fingers still knotted in his dark hair. She couldn't help the smile that began to spread across her face but tried to conceal it behind a pale hand. The silence was broken as she sniffed and shifted on the blanket. The small sound pulled Daryl from his thoughts and he stared at her through the gloom.

Her nose was turning red and he could see the shining trail a lone tear had left on the side of her face. Something Daryl couldn't name stabbed at his chest and he swore under his breath, finally releasing the hair clutched in his fist. "What now?" He asked, doing his best to sound aggravated.

Carol sniffed again and rubbed at her nose, momentarily revealing the smile on her lips. "It's just…" she fought to contain the laugh of incredulity that this cathartic moment had caused to bubble up inside her. She pressed her hands to her temples and focused on a blade of grass that stuck to her toes. "No one has ever done this…_said_ this to me."

Daryl's brow furrowed and he bit his bottom lip, "Said what?"

Carol lifted her head, bright eyes locking boldly on his. "That they're sorry." Another tear slipped over the curves of her face, disappearing at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue darted out to catch the salty droplet and she smiled wider.

Confused, unprepared for the moment he'd found himself in, Daryl snorted. "Ya cry too damn much." He rested his elbows on his knees and focused on the tree line.

This time, Carol gave in and the laugh burst through her lips. Daryl passed a hand wearily over his face and rolled his eyes as he listened to the ridiculous laughter tumble from the tiny woman.

_Lord…_


	13. Run

**First of all, I am so sorry that it took me a while to post this chapter! There was a lot that needed to happen and I didn't want to split it so thank you for being patient! It's an amazing feeling to know that something I love doing so much is bringing some fun and joy to the readers! Thank you guys for the words of encouragement that spur me on : ) As promised, there will be more walker action in this chapter! As much as I would love to just sit around and write about Carol and Daryl's bizarro, saucy, little tension bubble...I don't want to forget about the other characters or the head-smashing gore that makes TWD so special : ) But don't think I'd leave you hanging; there will definitely be some awesome Caryl moments so hang in there! I hope you enjoy the chapter and thank you again for reading and for sticking with the story : ) Settle in because this is one's a biggie! I call it the MEGA chapter lol**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead...but I do own a copy of the soundtrack! : D**

**Chapter 13: Run**

"You shoulda let me go man," said Shane as he and Rick walked the perimeter of the farm.

"I needed you here."

"Yeah; you keep sayin' that." Shane rubbed the back of his head and snorted.

Rick kept his eyes on the tree line, searching for any sign of movement. His right hand hovered over his holster as he tried desperately to ignore the angry man beside him. The silence only served to further agitate Shane.

"You think Glenn 'n Daryl can handle that shit better than me?"

"Ain't like that." Rick's eyes narrowed as he stared at his friend through the dark. "I needed someone _here_, to keep an eye on things...on Lori and Carl."

Shane frowned, looking away. "And T-Dog?"

Rick's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who was _he_ keepin' an eye on?"

Rick lifted his gaze to the other man who walked just a few yards ahead of them.

_ Dammitt._

"Had to have some manpower here."

"Right." Shane rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on his shotgun.

The two continued in silence but Rick could feel the tension radiating from his partner. "Somethin' you wanna say?" He stopped walking, his hands resting on his hips.

"Naw man." Shane scratched at the stubble on his chin and kept walking.

Rick stared hard at him, "I need you to drop _this_." His voice was low, angry. "Quit tryin' to make this into somethin' it's not; You gotta trust me and I'm tellin' you I needed you_ here_." He tore his eyes from Shane as they resumed walking.

"Talkin' 'bout trust..." Shane muttered under his breath. "You needed T-Dog to keep an eye on me..."

Rick stopped short and wiped his upper lip before looking at Shane. "What'd you say?"

"Nothin' man."

"Man, ya'll need to hush. If I can hear ya'll way the hell up here the geeks are gonna hear you too!" T-Dog hissed at them over his shoulder.

Shane and Rick nodded.

"Let it go," Rick whispered as they picked up their pace. His tone brooked no argument and Shane responded with a grunt. After a few hurried strides the two men caught up with T-Dog.

"You see anything?" asked Rick.

"Not yet; you?"

Rick shook his head.

"Ain't really seen much of 'em since the one came in here and got Dale..." T-Dog lowered his head.

"Yeah; I've been wonderin' about that myself," said Rick. "From what Herschel said it seemed like he and Otis were bringin' 'em in pretty regularly."

"You think maybe they moved on? Left the area? Ain't much out here..." said T-Dog as his eyes scanned the field.

"What about the cattle?" Shane asked. "You'd think those things would be crawlin' all over this place."

"Doesn't make much sense." Rick ran a hand through his hair and secretly wished the farm wasn't so damn big.

"You given any more thought to Ft. Benning?" Shane eyed his partner.

"Some...I still think we need to try and stay here, at least until the baby comes."

"You talkin' bout nine months here? Think Herschel's gonna go for that?" Shane's voice was beginning to rise.

"He _has_ to." Sweat glistened on Rick's brow. "We need him for the delivery."

"Man; I'm sure they got doctors at Ft. Benning...I mean _real_ doctors not some vet that thinks walkers are just sick people..."

"I think he did just _fine_ with Carl," Rick snapped.

"Ya'll need to cut this shit out!" said T-Dog, his voice a hoarse whisper. "We out here to keep the geeks away not draw 'em in with some damn arguments that can wait 'till mornin'." His gaze traveled from one man to the other and he shook his head.

Shane's lip curled as he stopped walking, he pointed a thick finger at T-Dog, "You know what man, why don't..."

"Stop!" Rick hissed, raising a hand. His companions fell silent.

The deputy's eyes were narrowed as he stared into the woods, his lips parted slightly as he strained to catch the sound again. "Hear that?" He whispered, but the others merely stared at him with blank expressions. Rick motioned for them to follow as he crept closer to the trees.

In the dark solitude of the farm house, Herschel lay awake. Ugly thoughts crowded his mind, forcing his eyes open. He looked up at the ceiling, his hand drifting instinctively to the empty place beside him where Joanna used to lie. He frowned as his fingers clutched at the undisturbed blanket, and moved over the cool pillow that still smelled like her. His chest tightened.

_ Jo..._

Fresh grief sunk its teeth into his heart. It still hurt to be alone in that bed...to reach out and find nothing...feel nothing.

_It still hurts...It'll always hurt._

With a grunt, Herschel managed to sit up and throw back the sheets. He swung one stiff leg over the edge of the bed and then the other. Standing in the quiet room, he sighed deeply and rubbed his elbows, soothing the aching joints. Slowly, carefully, the farmer knelt in front of the bed and closed his tired eyes. He brought his hands up, clasping them firmly as they rested atop the mattress. For one quiet moment, he hesitated... Sighing deeply, Herschel hung his head and wondered whether his connection to God remained intact. He worried that it had been severed when his wife, his stepson... when all of those _people_ had stumbled out of the barn, hungry...terrible...

"No..." He mouthed in the darkness, squeezing his eyes shut.

_I'm here; Maggie, Beth, Patricia, Jimmy...We were able to help the boy...It's got to mean something; we're alive for a reason._

With his resolve came a familiar feeling; deep within his chest, warmth was spreading as the bond...the oldest one he knew...flickered into life like a lantern in a window. He decided to take advantage of the connection while it lingered; his body relaxed, pulse slowing as he licked his dry lips and began a silent prayer.

_Lord; I find myself in need of guidance._

He paused, the words forming slowly in his weary

mind.

_Rick...his people...I feel responsible for them. I helped his boy and that was supposed to be the end of it...but they're still here. I don't know that the farm will support all of us...but how can I turn them away? They've got nowhere to go..._

Herschel leaned forward, resting his head on clasped hands.

_We needed supplies and he took two others into town to find them... They almost didn't make it back. They were willing to go! They took the risk... If anything had happened..._

He chewed his lower lip.

_I don't think I'd be able to live with it. I'm asking you...should they stay here? Please; tell me what to do. Are we all supposed to stay together? Am I responsible? What do I do? What __can__ I do? Help me._

He continued to kneel; the wood floor was hard, unyielding beneath him as he imagined his pleas drifting, spiraling upwards to nestle in the ears of God. As Herschel waited for an answer, he listened to all of the sounds the evening had brought with it. Walls groaned, floor boards creaked...the entire house seemed to breathe...the way it always had...but there was something lonely about it now... He knew that his daughters were safe in the bed they shared. Patricia, Jimmy...he hoped they were both sleeping peacefully in their rooms, enjoying the nightly respite from the horrors of the world around them.

_ Four souls..._

The Almighty had seen fit to leave him with four of his own kith and kin. Four beating hearts to help him shoulder the loss of Joanna..Sean...the world... His thoughts drifted to the tents outside and to the men, women and children who slept in them... who were struggling as much as he was, or even more so...

He lifted his chin to look at the ceiling.

_I know you brought them here for a reason. _

Images of the barn flashed in his mind and he saw them all...every one of those people...if he could even call them that... snarling, reaching out with pale, gray arms and stiff fingers...

_They just kept coming..._

Herschel's brow furrowed as he remembered Rick and his people...the looks on their faces when that little girl stepped into the light...

_ But Rick, Carl...the others...they're __alive__. Right here; right now..._

With his decision made, Herschel rose, brushing the dust from the his knees. He pulled back the rumpled sheets and eased himself back into bed. Laying on his back with his hands clasped over his heart, the farmer turned to stare out the nearest window. Starlight reflected in his cloudy eyes and he sighed, wishing the world was not such a dark place. But maybe it could get brighter...

_Thank you._

He tore his gaze from the night sky, knowing that God had heard him. As he finally let his head fall back against the worn pillow, Herschel closed his eyes, content. Tomorrow, he would ask Rick and his people to move into the house.

Carol wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting there. Her legs had grown numb long ago and her eyes were glazed with exhaustion but she refused to give in...to allow something as trivial as sleep to steal these minutes, these hours from her. She sat cross legged on the roof and felt a dull ache in her neck as she turned just slightly to look at Daryl. He rested an elbow on a raised knee, his other leg hanging limply over the edge of the roof. Carol studied him as he stared out into the evening, his blue eyes seeming to cut through the darkness as he scanned the field. She blinked as she wondered whether or not he had moved closer...

_ It's in your head._

Hands that had lain idle in her lap began to fidget as she argued with herself.

_No..._

Before the outburst...before he'd stopped her from falling...He was clear on the other end... but now... Maybe it was just a foot...a few inches even... but she could have sworn he was closer.

_You're just seeing what you want to see. It's nothing...it means nothing._

She began to twirl the wedding band on her finger, the cold metal anchoring her to the present...to the reality of her body, of Daryl's... and the undeniable space between them. Carol's gaze dropped to the rough blanket beneath her. It was deep green and made of wool, most likely a relic from Dale's time in the military. She'd long since stopped feeling the itch of rough fibers against her bare legs but still longed for something gentle, comforting.

_A few yards of ugly fabric..._

It was all that separated the two of them. _That_...and a strange, sad silence that had grown so familiar to Carol, it almost had a taste..._a smell_...soft... like the air after a rain storm. The silence wasn't ideal but she knew that it held some form of acceptance...the understanding that they could tolerate or even prefer each other's company despite their arguments and insecurities. He could yell and she could listen; he could sit, keeping watch in the lonely hours before dawn, and she could watch with him. It was enough...It _had_ to be... Her eyes moved over him, following the slope of his back and shoulders, then traveling down to the hand splayed at his side.

_ We're alive._

She reminded herself as the need for closeness began to churn inside her.

_We're alive, and he's here._

Carol shivered at the thought of so much life and energy just feet away. She felt his presence like a pulse, steady...beating...flesh and blood and bone. Even as her mind and body screamed for contact, she knew this time with him was a gift. The sharp pang of a need unfulfilled was keeping her awake...alive... Carol let herself drop back onto the blanket, wanting desperately to wrap herself in the moment...to fall asleep wearing the feeling like an oversized shirt, familiar...comfortable... She stretched...arms extending behind her head; her fingertips nearly reached the edge of the roof. She winced as her shirt pressed against the burning scrape on her back.

"What are ya doin'?"

Carol blinked as she turned her face towards him, "hmm?"

"Sleepin'?"

She shook her head and laughed softly, small creases forming at the corners of her eyes. "No. Just trying to get comfortable."

Daryl snorted.

"It doesn't seem to be working," she laughed again, bringing one hand to her face and rubbing her forehead, as if trying to soothe her aching mind.

_Sleep... He thinks I could sleep up here? Like this?_

Her thoughts went to her hips, where each inch of skin he'd touched was still humming.

"No shit," he scoffed, scratching the back of his neck. "Ya oughtta turn in."

"And miss all this?" She swung her arm in a lazy arc, gesturing at the sky.

The hint of a smile tugged at his lips

"besides; I'm not even sure I can trust you," she teased as exhaustion and need began to eclipse her insecurities.

He shot her a dirty look and she bit her lip. "To stay awake..." she clarified.

Daryl let out a low whistle and ran a hand through his hair. "Takes more than a few hours on the damn roof, starin' at trees, to wear me out."

Carol propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at the sliver of exposed skin just below the hem of her shirt. "What _does_ it take?" She asked softly; a flush crept up her neck and spread across her face as soon as she realized what she'd said.

He turned to face her, his brow furrowing as her words began to ricochet in his skull. She forced herself to meet his gaze and hold it; her blue eyes locked on his as she waited for an answer.

Daryl stared hard at her through the dark, his mouth a hard line as he thought about what she'd asked and what he could possibly say in response.

_The hell is she doing? _

His eyes narrowed as he studied her.

_It's late...she's half asleep..._

But she was looking right at him, as awake as he'd ever seen her. He brought a hand to his lips and began chewing his nails. Daryl focused on the rough skin of his knuckles as Carol's question hung, suspended in the space between them. He heard a small crack as the tip of his nail gave way between his teeth; he spit it out and raised his head, startled to find that her eyes were still on him. She refused to look away, waiting with agonizing patience for him to respond. He exhaled, passing a hand over his face.

_What does she want?_

His body tensed as walls went up in his mind. He didn't want the meaning...the _possible_ meaning in her words, to reach him...but the chill snaking its way up his spine made him think it had... One arm remained draped over his bent knee and his fingers balled into a tight fist, as if he were crushing something...crushing _this..._

_Whatever the fuck this is..._

She tugged at the cross around her neck, the movement pulling Daryl from the heavy cloud of his thoughts. He watched as she toyed with the small charm, clutching and releasing it, letting it fall against her chest. His jaw clenched and he swallowed, wanting to stop the warmth that was spreading through him.

_Stop._

Despite his efforts to maintain control he found himself meeting her gaze again. Her eyes were clear, alert beneath her lashes and she wouldn't look away...She was still waiting for an answer but the words were slipping from Daryl's mind, fading quickly like the final moments of a dream. He blinked, feeling light headed as the flow of blood to his brain redirected itself.

_Christ..._

The warmth was starting to bother him and he pulled his leg back onto the roof as he turned his body to face her. Slender fingers wrapped around the cross again; her arm resting lightly in the shallow dip between her breasts. The corner of her mouth turned up as she smirked at him; her brow furrowed, "Daryl?"

Hearing his name pass her lips unnerved him. She'd said it a hundred times before...but somehow it felt different...sounded different. He imagined the tip of her tongue hitting the roof of her mouth as she pronounced the D...he wanted her to say it again.

_Stop...Stop this..._

"You still here?" She laughed softly.

Confused, overwhelmed by the warm blood coursing through him, Daryl leaned back onto the blanket, pressing his palms to his eyes. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath.

"What? Now you're the one falling asleep?" She smiled as she rubbed the sore spot on her shoulder.

He didn't answer but pressed down harder with his palms, trying desperately to ignore the feeling that had gripped him.

"Daryl?" She whispered.

His eyes eased open at the sound.

_ Godammitt..._

He rolled onto his side, facing her. When she met his gaze again, the smile quickly died on her lips. He was glaring at her, his blue eyes focused, feral. Heat pooled in her stomach as he propped himself up on one elbow and continued to stare at her. Carol's arms felt weak as she began to crawl slowly across the blanket. The fabric was coarse under her knees and her mouth had grown painfully dry, but she still advanced.

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes never leaving her as she crawled towards him.

_ What are you doing? Stop..._

But the words were lost, overpowered by the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He bristled as she got closer but couldn't make himself leave.

Carol was dimly aware of her surroundings; the blanket sliding beneath her palms, the moon overhead...dark trees that stood like sentinels in the distance... Even the pain of her injuries seemed to recede as nervous energy pulsed throughout her body. Plans...consequences...motives... Everything had suddenly become so trivial and her lips parted slightly as she inched closer. With just over two feet between them, Carol froze. She sat back on her heels, hands resting on her thighs.

He looked up at her, his face a mask.

When she spoke, her words came out in a strained whisper, "Are you alright?"

Daryl's eyes moved over her face, pausing briefly on her parted lips and then traveling further down to the gold cross on her chest. He squinted, barely making out a faint smattering of freckles behind the small charm. Just below the cross was a shadow, marking the hollow between her breasts. He hung his head and rapped his knuckles on the blanket, knowing he couldn't explain himself...his actions...

Carol stared down at him in awe; her nails dug into the soft flesh of her thighs as she felt his gaze on her. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the late hour...but she thought his eyes had lingered on her mouth...and now they were moving down her neck, over her chest... She hugged herself, feeling exposed, yet wanting him to continue...

_Don't stop..._

She frowned when he lowered his head; she wanted...needed him to look at her again. "Daryl?"

Reluctantly, he lifted his chin. He saw her brows knit together as she struggled to read his features. But all he could do was stare as he lay on his side, one hand supporting his head, the other pulling at the rough fabric beneath him.

As Carol watched him watching her, the inches between them became maddening. Steeling herself, she placed her hands flat on the blanket and leaned forward.

Daryl couldn't move or think; his limbs were heavy as she came closer. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was telling him to leave, to run, but the words were slurred and didn't seem to make sense...not when he could smell her hair and feel the warmth coming from her skin, from her legs...

Her arms held her up as she bent lower, tilting her head. She bit down hard on her lower lip and felt her toes curling as she sought out his mouth in the dark.

He closed his eyes as she moved in; she paused with her lips just beyond his reach...the absence of expected pressure making him dig his nails into the blanket. He couldn't see her face, but still felt how close she was... She laughed softly and he felt her breath on his lips; the muscles in his stomach tightened painfully. There was so little separating them now...not even an inch between her lips and his...but she lingered, savoring the control.

Carol shivered as she kept herself from crushing her lips against him, but the anticipation was incredible, making her entire body ache and she was loathe to let the feeling go...knowing she may never experience it again...But her resolve was crumbling as she stared at him; his eyes closed as he waited for her...one hand tugging at his hair in frustration while the other clutched tightly at the blanket. "Daryl," she whispered one last time...

He could hear the smile in her voice, "Yeah?" He spoke so low that he wasn't sure she'd heard him.

In answer, she moved closer; his lips parted for her...

A shot rang out, clear, shrill, tearing a hole through the night.

Her mouth was so close to his but they both sprang apart at the sound. Daryl searched frantically for the binoculars and stood, holding them before his eyes. Carol was breathless, scanning the field for any sign of movement. "You see anything?" She managed through labored breaths.

Daryl shook his head. "Rick 'n them must've found somethin'."

A crease formed in Carol's forehead. "Think they ran into trouble?"

"Don't know...but I'm gonna check. Stay here."

"What?" She was still struggling to regain her composure after the shock of gunfire...after what almost happened...

"Said stay here, or get back inside." He grabbed the Remmington and tapped the roof."

Carol could only nod as she watched him disappear down the railing. His form grew smaller and smaller as he ran across the field, making a beeline for the trees. She blinked, trying to collect her thoughts.

_We...I..._

She sat massaging her temples, angry that he'd taken off, leaving her alone on the roof to sort out whatever the hell it was that just happened...that very nearly happened... She reached out, running a trembling hand over the place where he was lying moments before...it was still warm. Gently, Carol brushed her fingertips over her lips, remembering how close they'd been to his...how terribly close... She cursed herself for hesitating.

_What was I doing? Was he going to let me? Why?_

Questions sprouted like weeds in her mind and the dizzying heat surrounding her was quickly replaced by cold doubt. Not wanting to deal with the mess in front of her, Carol rose and walked stiffly to the railing. When she reached the ground, she stood frozen, unsure of what do or where to go.

_ The shot..._

She instantly latched on to the welcome distraction and made her way back towards the tents. Carol squinted and was able to make out Lori's slim form in the distance. She hurried to reach the other woman who stood with one arm draped around Carl. Lori's face was pale against the dark waves of her hair, her eyes wide with fear. Carol reached out to touch her arm, "Lori?"

The other woman blinked, focusing on Carol.

"Are you and Carl alright?"

The boy looked up at her from beneath dark lashes. "We heard the shot," he said.

"The shot..." his mother echoed softly.

Carol was gripping Lori's arms and squeezing gently, "Rick, Shane and T-Dog were walking the perimeter; maybe they saw something...Daryl's going to check on them..see if he can help. It'll be okay." She continued to rub the woman's arms and cast worried glances at Carl.

"What if it's Rick?" Lori asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. Her breathing grew heavy as panic set in, "What if he..."

"Shh," Carol moved in close, her arms encircling her friend. She closed her eyes, wincing as Lori hugged her hard. The younger woman's nails dug into the back of Carol's shirt, as if she were afraid to let go.

"I just..." she sniffed, her chin resting on Carol's shoulder. Her body shook as she tried to speak between gasping breaths, "I just don't know if I could handle it if anything..."

"I know; I know" Carol whispered. Her eyes were closed as she stroked Lori's hair. "It's alright; everything's going to be alright." She looked down and saw Carl frowning at the ground. Without hesitating, she extended her hand, "Hey."

The boy's stormy blue eyes went to her face and then to the hand she held in front of him; his mouth was a hard line as he twined his fingers with hers. Carol didn't say anything but gave his hand a squeeze. The three of them stood in silence for a moment outside the Grimes' tent, each taking some small comfort from the other.

Carol's shoulder had grown damp where Lori was crying against her. She held her friend tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head. "It's late and I'm sure whatever it is, the men are handling it. Why don't we head to the house and see if Herschel has anything that might help with your nerves."

Lori pulled away from Carol, nodding. Her eyes were red and a few dark strands were plastered to her forehead.

"Mom," said Carl.

Lori sniffed, looking down at him. "What son?"

He touched the space above his upper lip, "Snot."

"Oh." A small laugh escaped her as she wiped her nose.

"Come on; let's go," Carol gave the boy a weak smile as she led them towards the house. One hand held his, and the other was resting lightly against Lori's back as the three walked across the field, hoping Herschel was awake.

As Lori dried her eyes, she glanced sideways at Carol. "Were you already up?"

"Hmm?"

"Before the shot...were you awake?" Asked Lori.

"Yeah..." she paused, considering her next words. "Couldn't sleep."

"And you said Daryl was going to check on them?"

Carol nodded.

"Were you two on watch then?"

"Yeah; I just needed something to keep my mind occupied." She answered, trying to keep her tone even.

"Oh." Lori rolled her thumb over her cheek, wiping away moisture that lingered there. "Did it help?"

Carol looked at her friend, eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher the nature of Lori's questions but the younger woman's face was all innocence and concern. A sigh passed her lips as she remembered the way she'd felt crawling over that blanket...Fearless, hungry...driven...

_God...what was I thinking?_

But it didn't have anything to do with thinking. It was about her and him...about distance...an _opportunity_...about taking control...about wanting something so badly that she found herself momentarily possessed by it...

She shook her head as the fresh memories stabbed at her. "No," she answered, her eyes going to the wet ground, "It didn't."

Rick ducked into the tree line and the others followed. Their eyes darted between branches, as they strained to catch a glimpse of whatever had made the noise. "Split up," Rick hissed, "But don't go too far; If it was a walker makin' that sound, it's gotta be close."

T-Dog nodded moving off to the right. Rick nodded to the left as he looked at Shane.

"Nah, man I'll cover you."

"Fine; just keep your eyes open." Rick moved deeper into the woods, treading carefully over dead leaves and thick roots. The low growl he'd heard grew louder in his ear and he cursed as his foot sank into suddenly softer ground.

"Must be near a creek," said Shane as he pulled his boot free from the muck.

Rick raised a finger to his lips, silencing his partner.

Shane frowned; he could hear the growling. The two men exchanged a look before creeping closer to the creek bed. They each found a tree to hide behind and listened... After several minutes, Rick craned his neck around; at the water's edge, three walkers were hunched over a deer carcass. He continued to watch as they tore at its belly, pulling out coils of slick entrails. Their teeth gnashed as they tugged at the raw flesh, biting and tearing. Before Rick could act, Shane was aiming his shotgun at the largest walker and squeezing the trigger. Rick heard himself yelling, "No!" as the bullet ripped itself from the barrel. There was a loud crack and the sharp sound resonated throughout the quiet forest. The walker's head was blown away as the bullet crashed into soft, putrid flesh; the limp body fell forward onto the deer and the others raised their heads, seeking the source of the sound. Shane was aiming for the second walker when Rick's voice stopped him.

"Don't shoot," he growled through clenched teeth as the walkers abandoned their meal and staggered towards the trees.

Shane stared at him, confused.

"When it's only a few like this, we can take care of them without making so much damn noise." He pressed his back firmly against the trunk of the tree and waited. Shane reluctantly followed suit. Rick pulled out a pocket knife, quickly flicking open the blade. The smaller walker, a woman, snarled as she came closer. Her lips had been eaten away by decay, revealing crooked teeth, stained red with deer's blood. Sickly yellow eyes rolled in her sockets as she sniffed the air, searching for warm flesh. She was rasping as she neared Rick's hiding place, jaws hanging open... Steeling himself, Rick leapt from behind the tree and drove the small blade hard through her temple. She made a gurgling sound as her knees buckled beneath her. Rick wrenched the blade free, letting her fall. His breathing heavy, he looked at Shane, "There are other ways to do this," he whispered hoarsely, ducking back behind the tree. Shane nodded, waiting for the second walker to reach them.

It stumbled drunkenly towards the trees; fresh blood dripped from its chin, forming a dark stain on its chest. It growled at the empty air and Shane could see the shining bits of flesh caught in its teeth. He shifted the shotgun so that his hands were clamped around the barrel. The walker's arms were extended, filthy fingers bent as if curling around phantom prey. It paused, turning slowly to face Shane. Agitated, the creature lunged for him, hissing... His upper lip curling back, Shane stepped forward, swinging the shotgun like a bat. The stock collided with the walkers jaw, sending it to the ground. Adrenaline coursed through Shane's limbs as he stood over the body, slamming the gun down and crushing the walker's nose. It moaned, one hand reaching up feebly but Shane grunted, bringing the gun down a third time, cracking the walker's skull. Its arm fell limp at its side and Shane wiped the sweat from his brow. The two men stood catching their breath, "Let's get back," said Rick as he flipped the knife closed and tucked it back into his pocket. They began to make their way back towards the farm but the sound of leaves crunching underfoot stopped them. Rick leaned forward, squinting through the gloom but he let out a sigh of relief when T-Dog appeared.

"The hell happened? You alright?"

Rick nodded, "Came across a few."

"Little late night snack," Shane gestured behind them at the ravaged carcass and fallen walkers.

"Shit," T-Dog rubbed the back of his head. "Heard the shot...thought ya'll were in trouble." He frowned, looking from Rick to Shane. "Best pray there ain't no other geeks out here heard it."

"He's right. We gotta start conserving ammo, bein' quieter, quick..clean." Rick looked at Shane. "At the pharmacy, I fired and it brought more down on us. I know sometimes we don't have a choice but this here," he turned, pointing to one of the bodies, "This sorta thing we can handle without shooting."

Shane lowered his head for a moment, "Alright."

T-Dog's scratched his back with the end of his crowbar, "I don't know about ya'll but I'm ready to get the hell out of here." Without another word, the three men headed back the way they'd come.

Daryl was sprinting across the field, grateful to have a sudden outlet for the energy that had built up in him on the roof. As he ran further and further from the camper, he made a conscious effort to leave his blurry thoughts behind him. The motion of his body returned the blood flow to normal, allowing him to refocus on the burning in his lungs, the cramping in his stiff legs and the overwhelming need to find the others.

When he reached the fence, he hopped over, his boots digging into the moist ground on the other side. He jogged along the wood line, searching for any sign of where they might have entered. After a few moments, he stopped, hands resting on his thighs as he leaned forward to catch his breath.

_Where in the hell are they?_

He wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes and cursed. Clutching the rifle tightly, Daryl picked up his pace, running parallel to the fence. His eyes scanned the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of his companions.

Patricia woke, letting the visitors in when she heard Carol tapping at the screen door. "Come in," she said as the three of them strode past her into the living room.

Carol lead Lori and Carl to the sofa before turning to Patricia, "There was a shot." She hugged herself as she looked at the frightened mother and child. "Rick took Shane and T-Dog to check the perimeter and we're worried."

Patricia followed Carol's gaze and saw the fear on Lori's face. "Is there anything I can do?"

Carol moved in closer, speaking softly against Patricia's ear, "Daryl went out to check on things and I'm sure everything is fine but she's not handling it well...I was wondering if Herschel had anything...you know...that might help her relax? I think she's scaring the boy.."

Patricia eyed Carl who sat with his hands folded in his lap, his chin resting on his chest. "I think there's something in the guest room."

Carol's voice dropped even lower, "Nothing that could hurt the baby," she reminded the other woman.

"Of course. I'm sure there's something; If I can't find it I'll wake Herschel."

"Thank you," said Carol.

Patricia placed a hand on her shoulder before turning to leave. Carol heard a door ease open and she looked up to find Jimmy at the top of the stairs. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared down at them. "Everything alright?"

"Just needed a little help, sorry we woke you," Carol called softly.

"Don't worry 'bout it," the steps creaked as he made his way down. "Ain't like anybody gets real sleep anymore."

Carol smiled as he walked into the living room.

"Ya'll want some light in here?" He asked, his hands tucked under his arms.

"I think we'll be fine; no sense in waking the whole house up," Carol answered.

"Suit yourselves; what's goin' on?"

"Lori just needs something to help her calm down; it's been a rough day...rough night too." Carol cast a glance over her shoulder at the entryway. She began to grow nervous as the realization hit her that Daryl was on his way to find the others and whatever problem they'd encountered would soon become his...

Jimmy crossed the room to stand beside her and she placed a hand on his back, "Would you mind staying with them? I need to check on something back at camp; let Patricia know I'll be right back."

"Sure," said Jimmy as he made his way to the sofa and took a seat beside Carl.

Carol walked briskly to the door and pushed it open, her pace quickening the second it clicked shut behind her. She ran past the tents, the smoldering ashes of the campfire...and on towards the RV. She didn't stop until her hand was flat against the side of the camper. Each breath stung but she forced herself up the ladder and searched the folds of the blanket for the binoculars. She fumbled in the dark but eventually her hands closed around the familiar object and she lifted it to her face.

_Where did you go?_

She looked left and then right, quickly scanning the fields, hoping to spot Daryl's form near the trees. The binoculars pressed into the bridge of her nose as she struggled to focus.

_Come on... I know you're out there..._

Her fingers carefully adjusted the lenses, sharpening her vision. Her eyes followed the fence and she gasped, glimpsing movement. She turned, hoping the moving object would reenter her line of sight.

_ There!_

She froze, a sigh of relief escaping her as she recognized the figures in the distance. Daryl, Rick, Shane and T-Dog stood talking at the edge of the woods.

_They're all okay..._

She lowered the binoculars and rubbed her eyes. The reality of how little sleep she'd gotten began to settle in, making her bones ache and her lids heavy. "Lord," she muttered, passing a hand over her face. She blinked before looking through the lenses again, trying to find the others. As she scanned the field, she took a moment to look up at the night sky. Stars winked back at her as she stared and a small smile crept across her face

_They're okay._

Tearing her gaze from the brilliant dusting of stars, Carol sought out the men. Tree tops emerged in the lenses as well as the seemingly endless expanse of rolling hills beyond the farm. Carol's brow furrowed and she pulled the binoculars away for a moment, when she brought them back to her face, the blood seemed to freeze in her veins. There were small, black figures dotting the landscape...dozens...hundreds of slow moving, dark forms lumbering over the hills...advancing towards the farm...

_No..._

But she looked again; there were so many... She scanned the wood line until she found the men.

_They don't know..._

Her eyes widened as she dropped the binoculars and scrambled down the railing. She stumbled in her haste, nearly falling but she forced herself to run the minute she reached the ground. Tearing across the field, Carol headed straight for the trees, never stopping...never even thinking to look back... Sweat had broken out at her temples and was sliding down her neck as she ran... Her reckless scream pierced the night as she tried to reach him...

"DARYL!"

She was panting but managed to call out again, "DARYL!" The anguished cry burned her lips and the distance between her and the trees seemed to be growing with every stride... She pushed herself harder, every muscle...every cell in her body rebelling against the effort. The ground was slick beneath her bare feet and she thought she might trip at any moment but she couldn't stop...not now...

_They don't know...they don't know...They can't see..._

The words were pounding in her skull with every beat of her heart. She felt like she was choking as she struggled to catch a single breath but urgency drove her on. There wasn't time to feel the rocks that bit into the soft flesh of her feet, or the fire in her chest... Nothing mattered but reaching them...reaching him... Her mouth hung open and her shirt clung to the damp skin on her back.

"DARYL!" She cried out again and heard the desperation in her voice.

_I have to tell them...They don't know..._

T-Dog sighed as he emerged from the woods, the others close behind him. "All this nature bullshit," he said as they walked to the fence, "I'm over it. It's the damn apocalypse...we should be in a hotel, the four seasons...sleepin' on real beds, not out here wanderin' around the damn woods."

Shane rolled his eyes, chuckling.

"What man? You tellin' me you'd rather be out there?" T-Dog pointed at the trees. "Playin' park ranger and crawlin' back into a damn tent every night?"

"It ain't as bad as all that," added Rick. "It's just been one of those days." He clapped T-Dog on the back as they reached the fence.

"Seems like it's been one of those _months_," T-Dog snorted as he hoisted himself over.

Shane's hands were on his hips as he squinted through the darkness.

"What is it?" Rick asked.

"Oh Lord; what now?" said T-Dog, knocking his crowbar against a fence post.

"That Daryl?" asked Shane.

The others looked out over the field and saw a figure running towards them.

"Well, if it's a geek it's damn fast." T-Dog grunted.

"It's him," said Rick as he waved a hand in the air.

Daryl slowed to a stop in front of them and pushed the sweaty hair from his face.

"Hey," Rick took a step towards him. T-Dog nodded.

"Heard a shot," Daryl explained between deep breaths.

"Took out a walker," said Shane, the shotgun resting against his shoulder.

Daryl's eyes moved from one man to the next, seeking a more detailed account.

"We came across three; they were feeding on a deer. Shane shot the first one but we put down the others without wastin' anymore bullets." Rick's hands were on his hips as he stared at the hunter. "But thanks for comin'...never know what we might run into out there."

Daryl mulled the brief story over and spat, "Waste of a deer."

T-Dog laughed.

"Ya'll headin' back?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah; we've been around the entire farm...think it's safe to call it a night." Rick pinched the bridge of his nose before climbing over the fence, the others followed.

Daryl walked at Rick's side and listened as the deputy explained T-Dog's theory concerning the four seasons. He almost allowed himself to laugh but stopped when a strange sound reached his ears...his own name... "Anybody else hear that?" He tensed. They fell silent, waiting...and he heard it again.

_ Daryl.._

"Somebody lookin' for you?" asked Rick.

Daryl eyed him, confused.

"Oh now what?" T-Dog sighed, pointing at Carol's form in the distance. "When did everybody start joggin' in the middle of the night?"

Without thinking, Daryl left the others and ran to meet her.

"Oh thank God," she breathed as she saw him advancing in her direction. They stopped just feet from each other and Carol wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Thought I told ya to get inside," he huffed.

She glared at him as she waited for the fire in her lungs to die down. "I came out here..." she paused to take a breath, "to tell you..." her chest was still heaving with the effort of the run, "that we have a problem." Her hands gripped her knees as she looked down, feeling like she might be sick.

"What is it?" his voice was low and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Walkers," she gasped, still staring at the ground.

"Where? Ya seen 'em?"

"The roof..." She sank to the ground, holding her head in her hands. Daryl crouched, trying to see her face.

"I was using the binoculars and..."

"Yeah?"

"I saw them." Her hands moved to her temples and she looked at him with glassy eyes.

"How many?"

"Hundreds..." she whispered

His eyes narrowed as he placed a hand over his mouth. "They heard the shot..." he muttered to himself.

"What?"

"The shot..." he repeated, anger creeping into his voice, "they heard the fucking shot..."

Daryl stood as the others reached them, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"What's all this?" asked Shane.

Daryl frowned, offering Carol his hand. She hesitated before taking it, allowing him to pull her from the ground.

"Bad news," said Daryl.

All eyes were on her as she stood trembling before the men. She hugged herself as she tried to string the words together into coherent sentences.

"Go on," Daryl urged.

She took a deep breath, "I was on the roof and I saw walkers...through the binoculars. There's hundreds of them coming over the hills...towards us..."

Rick stepped back and looked at the ground before lifting his head again, "Hundreds?"

"There were so many..I...I can't be sure...but..it was the biggest group I've ever seen..."

"Christ," Shane muttered, passing a hand over his face.

"We gotta wake Herschel...the others...talk with everyone, figure out what we're gonna do." Rick began to pace, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"Man; don't sound like we got the time for any long discussions..." Shane kicked at the ground.

"There's_ gotta_ be a way..." Rick hissed, one hand tugging at his dark hair.

"Come on man," said T-Dog. "Let's get back to the house and go from there..."

The deputy nodded, his eyes vacant.

"Let's go!" Shane clapped his hands and took off running towards the house; Rick and T-Dog moved to follow him.

"Daryl; grab the guns 'n meet us back there," Rick called over his shoulder.

The hunter headed for the RV with Carol on his heels. When they reached the camper, Carol leaned against it, panting. She closed her eyes as she wondered what any of them could possibly do. Daryl jerked the door open and raced up the steps. He found the bag of guns, open on the small table, and began to rifle through it, taking quick inventory of their weapons and ammunition. Carol stood breathless in the doorway, hands gripping the edges. "Anything I can do?" she called up the steps, but there was no answer. Wiping her mouth on her shoulder, she made her way inside and stood beside the table. She listened to the soft clank of metal against metal as Daryl shifted the contents of the bag. "Daryl?" she reached out to touch his shoulder...

"Can't fuckin' see," he snapped; she quickly withdrew her hand before it could make contact. Without looking up, he dug deeper into the bag, his fingers seeking out any remaining boxes of ammo. She walked to the sink, her eyes going to the cabinet overhead. Her fingers curled around the handle as she pulled the door open, her free hand darting in, gingerly touching various objects until she found what she needed. Her back faced Daryl's as she brought a heavy flashlight down from the cabinet. Turning around, she moved to his side and flipped the switch. They blinked as the beam of light fell across the table; Daryl glanced sideways at her as she lifted the flashlight and held it over the bag.

"Thanks," he said, refocusing on the guns.

Carol simply nodded as a hot, prickling sensation began to move over her skin like an electric current. Despite the hour, the circumstance...the raw, stinging scrape on her back and the sense of dread building within her, cold and terrible...proximity won out. They stood side by side in front of the table, her eyes occasionally drifting to his face as she held the flashlight for him. Her pulse quickened as she remembered hovering over his mouth.

_ So still...and so close..._

Her tongue slid slowly over her dry lips as she realized how alone they were.

_The walkers..._

She could feel the frantic energy surrounding them...crackling like static...making the blood surge through their veins...lifting the hairs on their arms and the backs of their necks.

_This could be it..._

Her chest tightened and she sucked in a sharp breath as the gravity of their situation loomed large in her mind. She tried to master herself and ignore the very real possibility that they could both be dead by morning...

"Alright; it ain't much... but think we got enough ammo to make it out if we have to." He zipped the bag shut and slung it over his shoulder with a grunt, the contents rattling. Carol turned off the flashlight and held it to her chest. "C'mon." He moved past her towards the steps but paused when he saw that she wasn't following.

Carol's eyes were fixed on the floor and Daryl studied her, confused. "Said c'mon..." She didn't seem to hear him. Frustrated, he moved towards the small woman, forcing her to look at him. "Hey," he hissed. "What's your problem? We gotta move." He made no effort to mask the anger in his voice.

She bit her lip as she looked up at him; so many words...thoughts...were burning on her tongue and she fought to keep them in. She wondered how many were written on her face... The stale air in the RV seemed to grow warmer, stifling...

He hefted the strap higher on his shoulder and took a step closer; his upper lip curling back as he brought a hard fist down on the table, startling her. "Carol," he growled, "We gotta _move_." The words slid slowly from between clenched teeth as he towered over her. She felt the edge of the table press into the backs of her thighs as his closeness became overwhelming. Her chest rose and fell as the sound of her breathing filled the RV. Daryl tensed as he stared at her; sweat glistened on her collarbones, at the well of her throat... His eyes narrowed as images flashed across his mind, despite his efforts to keep them away. Her... on her hands and knees, crawling slowly, purposefully over the blanket towards him... He shook his head to clear away the picture and realized that his breathing had gone up and one hand was gripping the edge of the table so hard that he felt pain shoot through the bones in his fingertips.

Carol couldn't move or think...she was trapped between Daryl and the table. A myriad of thoughts and feelings were raging within in her as she tentatively reached out to touch him with shaking fingers. Her lips parted as his hand caught hers, engulfing it. For an instant, they stood in silence. Carol stared at the calloused fingers wrapped around hers and blinked, struggling to grasp what she saw...what she felt. Daryl sighed as he felt her hand go slack in his grip, she was warm, her fingers pliant under his...

_Stop..._

He squeezed gently, pulling her towards the door. "Let's go," he whispered. Carol nodded, allowing him to lead her down the steps. The instant Daryl closed the door behind them, he released her hand. "C'mon," he called over his shoulder as he fell into a jog. She hurried after him, numb...her fevered brain still trying to process the feeling of his hand on hers...and the seemingly crushing loss as he pulled away.

At the edge of the property, walkers had reached the fence. They groaned, clawing lazily at the obstacle. They continued to emerge from the darkness, teeth gnashing, feet dragging awkwardly in the dirt, each of them leaning against the wooden barrier. Some leaned over the edge, struggling, scratching at the slats and even falling forward to the other side. The horde grew and the fence began to creak as more and more corpses were pressed against it. Relentless, the walkers crowded each other, pushing, groping.. Every last one of the godless creatures seemed to have a dozen more at its back and the pressure on the fence was building. One of the slats creaked loudly as it began to buckle... The walkers snarled and rasped as they moved forward...a wall of mindless corruption... There was a sharp crack as one of the slats finally gave way and the herd quickly began to spill over. Some fell to the ground and were trampled by others. Ghastly, lumbering figures continue to pour through the gap, breaching the farm like a virus entering the bloodstream. They crawled, stumbled and staggered over the field...their dead eyes fixed on the house in the distance.

Carol and Daryl could hear yelling as they climbed the porch steps; the sound intensified as Daryl held the screen door open and allowed Carol to move past him.

"You can't ask me to leave!" Cried Herschel. Everyone had gathered in the living room; they leaned against the sofa, slumped in chairs or stood with arms folded protectively across their chests. Rick, Shane and Herschel were arguing in the center of the room.

"It ain't safe here," Shane stressed as he slapped the back of his hand into an open palm. "Ya'll think we're just gonna pick off a hundred of them things? Really think we got the ammo?"

"I can tell ya we don't," said Daryl as he stepped forward, dropping the bag of guns on the coffee table with a loud thud.

"So we just gonna run? Go back out there?" Rick asked, his eyes boring into Shane's face. "We got nowhere to go!" He hissed, pointing at the door.

"Man; this place ain't gonna hold." Shane's hands went to his hips as he took a step back. "Just too many of 'em."

"Think he's right," Daryl frowned at the carpet. "Herd that size can tear the house down."

"This is my _home!" _Herschel pleaded, knuckles straining as his fingers curled into hard fists. "I've at least got to_ try_ and defend it..."

Beth and Maggie stood behind the sofa, the older girl holding her sister as silent tears began to slide down her face.

Rick's skull was beginning to pound with uncertainty as he looked around the room. "Somebody say somethin'..." He waited for an answer but it never came. Overwhelmed by the decision in front of him, Rick moved to the couch and dropped to a crouch in front of his wife and son. He touched Lori's face, his green eyes softening as he felt her tremble. "What do you want to do?" He whispered, but she could only shake her head and pull Carl closer to her side.

"It's our_ home_..." Maggie echoed her father's words as she stroked Beth's hair. Glenn moved from his place against the far wall to stand at her side.

"We need to make a decision and I mean _NOW_." said Shane as he began to pace wildly. "Every second we waste, standin' here talkin'...the geeks are comin' down on us."

Rick nodded, rising. He turned around and walked towards Herschel.

"Don't ask me to leave..." said the farmer but Rick reached out, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"I want to stay..." Rick explained, his voice low, strained. "But I don't know that we can..."

Herschel jerked away from him, heading for the stair case. Rick's hand went to his forehead as he looked around the room. "Grab anything you might need."

The others exchanged nervous glances.

"Load the cars." said Rick as he strode from the room, leaving them all to absorb his words.

Maggie stared at Glenn questioningly through cloudy eyes. "He's right...we need to go." He held her face in his hands and placed a quick kiss on her lips. A choked sob escaped her.

"Ya'll heard the man," said T-Dog, "Let's go!" Shane and Andrea followed him out the door.

Carl's face was pressed to his mother's side as her grip on him tightened. Carol moved towards them, "Come on, I'll help you get your things." She carefully took Lori's hand and pulled her from the sofa. As she lead them through the room, Daryl blocked her path. "Ya alright with them?"

She blinked, "Yeah...we'll be fine. I'm just going to help them pack..."

He nodded and the four of them stepped out onto the porch. "Keep your eyes open," he said as he took off towards his tent. Carol looked down at Carl, "We need to hurry."

The boy tugged at his mother's shirt, "Mom; come on." The trio walked briskly across the field.

The old, wooden steps squeaked beneath Herschel's feet; Beth's eyes were wide as she watched her father reenter the living room with a shotgun in his hands. "Daddy?" She cried, breaking free from her sister's grasp. "What are you doing?"

"Herschel?" said Patricia as she moved to his side, eyeing the weapon warily.

"It's my farm." He looked at each of them in turn. "I can't just sit by and watch it get overrun."

"But Daddy, you..."

"I've got to," he said, hugging his youngest daughter to his chest.

"There's too many." Maggie's voice faltered as she spoke; her hazel eyes shone with moisture.

"We don't know that." Herschel released Beth. "I want you all to stay inside."

Jimmy rose from his chair, "But we could..."

"No." Herschel's stare was cold and hard. "Stay here." He headed for the door, letting it slam shut behind him. Tears were streaming down Beth's soft cheeks as she turned and ran up the stairs, seeking the safety and solitude of her bedroom. She tripped at the top of the stairs but picked herself up and dashed down the hall. Patricia and Jimmy watched as Maggie chased after her sister.

Beth threw open the door to her room and crumpled to the floor. Sobs racked her small frame as she lay on a faded rug, tracing a familiar flower pattern with her finger. She lifted her head when she saw Maggie enter. "What?" she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Maggie knelt beside her, "We have to leave."

"Huh?" Beth sat up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"They're right. Glenn, Daryl...Shane...The house won't hold."

Beth's eyes narrowed as she stared at her sister. "What are you say..."

Maggie reached out, grasping her sister's shoulders. "I'm saying we have to go. Find some bags so we can pack clothes, blankets...anything you think you might need."

"But..."

"Just listen; we need to do this...even if Daddy doesn't know it yet..." She scooted closer, lowering her forehead to rest gently against Beth's. The younger girl lifted her hands to grasp Maggie's wrists and the two sat in silence, clinging to what they knew were their final moments in their childhood home.

When Maggie pulled away, she saw that her sister's eyes were closed. "Hey," she whispered.

Beth's eyes eased open and she looked around the room, taking in all the little details... A cork board covered in old birthday cards, faded photographs and a second place ribbon for track and field...

"I need you here with me," said Maggie as she ran her hands up and down her sister's thin arms.

Beth nodded, blinking away fresh tears

Rick, Shane and T-Dog worked quickly, loading up their belongings and pouring what little fuel they had left into their tanks.

"Don't know how far we're gonna get on this," said Shane as he shook the last drops of gasoline from the mouth of the jug.

"Where we headed anyway?" asked T-Dog.

"Ft. Benning," Rick grunted as he tossed a bag of Dale's old tools into the bed of the pickup. "At this point," He paused to wipe his brow, "It seems like as good a place as any...Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"See if Glenn needs any help with the RV; I'm gonna have T-Dog help me break down the tents."

"Sounds good," said Shane as he strode off in the direction of the camper. When he reached it, he leaned in the open doorway and called up to Glenn, "Hey man, everything good?"

"Not exactly," said Glenn as he smacked the steering wheel in frustration.

Shane cursed under his breath as he climbed the steps, "What's the problem?" He stood behind the driver's seat, his thick fingers gripping the sides.

Glenn looked back at him, "Won't start; I think it's been parked too long."

"Man," Shane scratched the back of his head, "Ain't got time for this...Got any idea how to fix it?"

"Dale was the only one who really knew this thing," Glenn sighed as he leaned forward, resting his head on the wheel.

"C'mon; let's see if we can figure it out."

"Fine," Glenn lifted his chin; the breath caught in his throat he stared through the windshield. In the distance, he could see figures...dark shapes were advancing in droves... "Oh my god..." he breathed.

"What? You see somethin'?" Shane asked.

"Walkers." The word was a whisper on his lips.

"Where?"

Glenn pressed his finger to the glass, pointing to the massive heard that was getting closer with each passing second.

"Fuckin' Christ," said Shane as he brought a hand to his mouth.

Glenn's eyes were fixed on the walkers.

"We gotta get the hell out of here."

"But the RV..." said Glenn.

"Man; leave it! C'mon!" He slammed a fist on the dashboard, breaking Glenn's trance. "Grab what you need and move your ass!"

The younger man wore a look of shock and confusion as Shane yelled at him. As the severity of the situation gripped him, Glenn sprung from the driver's seat pushed past Shane to reach the back of the camper. He quickly scanned the small room until he spotted Carol's canvas bag. Glenn bent down and snatched it ; as he turned to leave, something caught his eye. Taped on the wall above the thin mattress was a picture of Sophia. He carefully yanked it free and paused to stare at it. Sophia was younger in the photo and wore a pout on her lips as she posed with a shabby looking Easter Bunny.

"Man, we need to go!" Shane called from the front of the camper.

"Coming," said Glenn as he slid the picture into his back pocket.

Carl rolled up his sleeping bag as his mother searched frantically for anything that might be of use on the road. "Albums...where did we put the albums?" Lori was mumbling to herself as she knelt to look under her cot. "I know they're here..."

"Are these all the clothes?" asked Carol as she rummaged through a pile on the floor.

Lori pushed the hair back from her face, "No...I think there's some hanging on the line outside."

"Alright. I'll see if we can fit them in," she hastily folded shirts and socks before shoving them into a large duffle bag. When she'd placed the last article in the bottom of the bag, Carol rubbed her aching shoulder and turned to face Lori. "I'll be back; I'm going to see what's on the line."

Lori nodded as she helped her son bind his sleeping bag.

The night air was cool on her legs as she stepped out of the tent. She shivered slightly as she walked towards the trees where Lori had strung up a line for drying the laundry. Peering through the gloom, Carol could see several pairs of jeans hanging; they flapped gently in the breeze as she drew near. Standing on the tips of her toes, she reached up to grab the first pair. A sudden sound made her freeze and her nails dug into the stiff denim as she held the jeans to her chest. She looked around but couldn't see what had made the noise. Swallowing hard, she hurried to pull down the next pair; she draped them over her shoulder and moved down the line. Every muscle in her body tensed as the familiar smell of decay reached her nostrils. She clamped a hand over her nose and spun around, only to find two walkers headed in her direction.

_Where did they come from?!_

Panic stabbed at her like so many needles and she bit her tongue to contain the scream in her throat. She could hear them now...low moans and snarls came from their gaping jaws as their arms reached out for her. They had nearly reached the trees when Carol finally tore her eyes away and forced herself to run. The jeans slid from her shoulder as she raced back towards the Grimes' tent. She looked to the left only to see more figures approaching. Hunched shoulders, broken necks...dark blurs as she flew past... The heavy jaws of fear clamped hard around her heart, releasing the scream she'd been holding...

Andrea heard the desperate cry tear through camp and emerged from her tent, revolver in hand. She raised her weapon and scanned the field. Her mouth dropped open as she made out Carol's pale form in the distance...and the creatures that followed her...

_ Holy shit..._

Taking aim, she squeezed the trigger and a bullet whizzed past Carol's head, burying itself in one of the walkers behind her. She called out as she ran, "Andrea! Don't! There's too many...Go now!" Her throat was raw as she hurled her words into the dark.

Andrea's brows knit together and she raised the revolver for another shot.

"No!" Carol screamed "You need to go! Look out!" She came to a sudden halt as more walkers emerged from behind Andrea's tent. The blonde woman looked over her shoulder at the army of corpses that had materialized.

_No... _

She glanced back at Carol who stood panting at the edge of the camp. The walkers were gaining...moving in on all sides. "Go!" Carol cried again as she summoned the strength to keep running. Andrea didn't hesitate, she shot two of closest monsters and bolted, hoping to reach the house. Her thoughts drifted to the woman she'd left behind her...but there was no way for her to reach Carol... She pushed herself onward as walkers swarmed over her tent.

Lori covered her ears as the shots rang out. Carl peeked through one of the windows, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene. "Mom! They're everywhere...Carol's out there! What do we do?!" Lori's breathing grew ragged as she zipped the duffle bag and pulled her son close.

"Baby, I need you to brave for me." She knelt in front of him, a hot tear welling in her eye.

"But what are..."

"Shh, there's no time now. We need to find your father...get to the house...Can you be brave for me?"

He nodded, wiping at his nose.

"Alright; you don't let go of my hand okay? You don't let go." Her voice cracked as she crushed him in a strong hug. When she released him, he snatched the Stetson from his cot and donned it.

"I'm ready," he said, taking a deep breath.

"Okay; stay close to me; we've got to run." She hefted the bag onto her shoulder, swaying slightly under the weight, and grabbed her son's hand. They peeked through one of the windows, waiting for a break in the seemingly endless throng of walkers. Lori gasped as she watched Carol scramble to find a clear path.

"We've gotta help her," Carl pleaded, squeezing his mother's hand.

Lori's heart was pounding as she looked at her son. When she turned back to the window, she saw that Carol had plucked a blackened piece of wood from the cold campfire and was swinging it wildly at the nearest walker.

"_Mom_..." whispered Carl.

Lori licked her lips and swallowed hard. "Alright," she breathed, her hand clammy around Carl's. "Let's go." She carefully unzipped the flap and poked her head through. The walker's were converging around Carol and Lori seized the opportunity to step quietly through the flap, pulling her son after her. Hunched, breathing heavily, the two hurried through camp.

Carol grunted as she swung the chunk of wood, bashing in a walkers skull; Red pulp slipped from cracks in the bone as its body sank to the ground. She struggled to catch a breath as another lunged at her. Screaming, Carol leapt aside, allowing the creature's momentum to work against it; growling and thrashing, it hurled itself forward, groping at empty air and losing its balance in the process. More were coming...behind her...from the sides...

_They're everywhere..._

She grimaced as she continued to swing the log, creating a small barrier around herself. Through the fray, Carol caught a glimpse of Lori and Carl. She saw them step through their tent and slink away towards the house with lowered heads...but it made no difference; the walkers spotted them. For an instant, Lori looked back at Carol, not wanting to leave her. "Go," Carol mouthed, and mother and child hurried across the field as corpses stumbled after them. A rotted hand caught hold of Carol's shirt and she jerked away violently, her eyes wild with fear. Another walker was at her back, jaws snapping; she spun around putting all of her force behind the log as she rammed it hard into the creature's chest, sending it backwards into a group of its peers. The weapon grew heavy in Carol's slight arms as her strength began to fail her. As she watched the corpses circling her, she bit her lip and fought the urge to sink to her knees and let the starving monsters descend on her exhausted flesh.

Glenn and Shane stopped short as they reached the cars. Panting, they ducked behind the pickup, pressing their backs to the cold metal.

"What now?" Glenn hissed.

Shane glanced left and then right, "Gotta find Rick...Lori, Carl...the others..."

"And then?"

"We get out." Shane's grip tightened on the shotgun.

"Hey!" A hoarse whisper reached them through the dark; Glenn turned, peeking over the bed of the truck.

"Ya'll okay?" asked T-Dog.

"Yeah man," Shane answered. "You?"

T-Dog nodded, before creeping around the truck to Join the others.

"I thought Rick was with you," said Shane.

"He was...but when the geeks came..." He shook his head, fingers curling around the crowbar. "He took off...wanted to get to the tents."

"Christ," Shane knocked his head back gently against the truck. "Glenn?"

The younger man looked at him with worried eyes, "Yeah?"

"You gotta make a run for the house; tell Herschel 'n them they need to move. We gotta cram everybody into these cars and go. _Now_."

Glenn swallowed hard.

"Go; I'll cover you," Shane urged.

Without another word, Glenn rose. As he moved past the others, T-Dog stopped him. "Here man," he held out the crowbar.

Glenn met his gaze, and T-Dog nodded, "Go on; take it."

Grabbing the weapon, the young man took off running towards the house. His eyes never leaving Glenn's fleeting form, Shane called to T-Dog, "Get in the truck."

"What?"

"Get in the truck and drive; circle the farm and see if you can find the others."

"Man; you gonna be alright?"

Shane lifted his gun, taking aim as walkers began to chase after Glenn. He squeezed the trigger and watched as a body fell in the distance. "I'm fine; just go!"

T-Dog ran to the driver's side and pulled open the door. He fumbled with the keys as he tried to start the truck. "C'mon," he pleaded through clenched teeth.

Outside, Shane slapped the tailgate. "Man, I said MOVE!"

"I'm tryin'!" T-Dog yelled out the window.

"Might wanna try harder," Shane yelled back as he took out another walker.

T-Dog turned the keys again; the engine sputtered before roaring to life. "Jesus," he whispered.

Shane stepped aside when he heard the truck begin to rumble. He could see Glenn ducking and dodging in the distance, crowbar swinging...

"I'll circle back around," T-Dog called, leaning out the window.

Shane waved him on.

T-Dog nodded before slamming down on the gas. The tires ripped into the dirt, sending chunks flying as the pickup lurched forward.

Herschel stood on his porch with the shotgun in his hands. The blood froze in his veins as he looked out and saw walkers swarming over the farm like so many ants...

_ They're a plague..._

His lips curled back in anger as he moved down the wide steps. He squinted, straining to pick out any of the living amidst the dead.

_ Glenn... _

The boy was speeding towards the house; Herschel watched as he swung his crowbar at one of the walkers, breaking its neck. The farmer steeled himself and raised his weapon. "Lord; help us..." he whispered as he got one of the creature's in his sights and held it there. His eyes squeezed shut as the bullet ripped itself from the barrel; the sound resonated in his ears.

Glenn watched, open mouthed as the walker beside him had its face torn away in an instant. Dark blood sprayed from the gaping wound, splattering Glenn's arm as he lifted it to shield himself. He looked up and saw Herschel standing on the porch steps.

"Come on Glenn!" Herschel called out to him.

One of the monsters reached for Glenn's leg and he screamed, kicking it away. He nearly lost his footing as his sneaker pressed into the walker's stomach. Scrambling, Glenn steadied himself and ran as fast as he could towards the house.

"Lori!" Rick called through the chaos. "Carl!" Both hands were on his pistol as he ran towards the barn. He'd forged a path through the walkers only to find his family's tent empty. The barn was closer to camp and he quickly convinced himself that Lori and Carl would have a better chance of reaching it than making it all the way back to the house. "Lori!" He cried out again, his voice thick with grief. Walkers trialed after him, hungry...relentless. He turned and shot; some of them tripped over the fallen body but were undaunted by the obstacle.

_ Shit!_

His lungs burned as he raced across the field. Occasionally he glanced over his shoulder to gauge the distance between himself and the walkers. Each time he looked, there seemed to be more of them... When he finally reached the barn, Rick flattened himself against the side, "Lori!" He yelled. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath.

"It's Dad!" exclaimed Carl. "Mom; did you hear it?"

"Rick?" Lori whispered in the dark, scarcely allowing herself to believe that her husband had found them...that he was alive...

Carl left their hiding place, a shadowed corner of the hayloft, and made his way to the ladder. He looked back at his mother, her face was blank...her eyes, distant. She sat with her back to the wall, fingers tugging softly at her hair. For a moment, she lifted her chin, studying cobwebs that clung delicately to the rafters above. Her lips parted as she stared, but the words didn't come.

"Mom..." Carl moved back to her side, taking one of her hands in his. "It's _Dad_."

Lori's eyes found her son's and saw the urgency there. He pulled and she rose, following him to the ladder. They climbed down carefully; straw crunched under their feet as Carl lead them in the direction of his father's cry. "Dad?" He pressed his ear to the rough wall and waited. Lori stood behind him, wringing her hands.

Rick's eyes widened when he heard his son's voice. "Carl?" He called back, "You alright? Is mom with you?" He edged along the length of the barn, making his way towards the doors.

"Yeah; we're okay." Carl followed his father's voice until he and Lori were standing behind the large, wooden doors. Together, mother and son lifted the heavy latched and pulled. As the doors slowly swung inwards, Carl craned his neck and caught a glimpse of his father just outside. Rick dropped to one knee, overwhelmed by the sense of relief that washed over him. Carl ran to him and clung to his shirt. Rick held his son tightly for a moment, the hint of smile appeared on his lips as he noticed the Stetson on Carl's head. He tipped the brim to get a better look at his son's face, "Couldn't leave it behind," he whispered.

Carl shook his head, smiling through his tears.

"Rick?"

The deputy stood when he heard his wife's voice; with one arm still draped around Carl's shoulders, Rick rose and walked to the doors. Lori emerged from the darkness of the barn, leaning slightly beneath the weight of a duffle she carried. Rick watched her hands go to her mouth as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. With just a few strides, Rick closed the gap between them and embraced her. He trembled as he held his family close; Lori's arms were around his neck, her face buried in his chest. Carl had an arm around each of their wastes, refusing to let them go.

"They came out of nowhere..." Lori sobbed into her husband's shirt. "I didn't know what to do."

"It's alright." Rick's chin rested on the top of her head. "All that matters is you and Carl got away." He kissed her hair.

"But the others...Carol...Andrea...they..." Lori was shaking.

Rick pulled away meet her gaze, "We're gonna find them. Okay? We have to."

She nodded, wiping at her red nose. They all turned when they heard the moans; a large group of walkers was headed for the barn. Rick's face was grave as he looked at his wife and son in turn. "We've gotta get to the house...or the cars...somethin'. We can't be out here."

"What do we do?" Lori asked, shifting the strap of the duffle bag on her aching shoulder.

"Stay close; do not leave my side."

Andrea stood leaning against the back of the farm house; her skin shone with sweat. One hand was pressed to her forehead, the other held the revolver and hung limply at her side. Her breaths were hot and ragged as they past her lips and as the muscles in her legs quivered, she knew the the wall was the only thing holding her up.

The bullets had gone quickly once the walkers forced her from her tent. She closed her eyes, realizing that the only reason she was still breathing was because the corpses had been distracted.

_ Lori, Carl...Carol._

They had all been at camp when the herd appeared; the walkers didn't know whom to chase and chaos had ensued as sloppy groups formed, branching off in pursuit of Lori, Carl, Carol and herself.

_Where are they?_

She'd seen Carol, surrounded by those things...and wasn't able to reach her...help her... Fear twisted and writhed in her belly like a snake; she leaned forward, lowering her head.

_What if they didn't make it?_

Andrea quickly pushed her hair back as she wretched. Gasping, she blinked hard and waited for the nausea to pass. For a moment she stood trembling with her hands on her knees, but the sick feeling rolled through her again and she heaved, the contents of her stomach spilling onto the grass. Her entire body seemed to lurch as she continued to cough and heave. Weakened, empty, Andrea sank to her knees. She lifted her head at the sound of low, drawn-out groans, like those of a dying animal.

_They're getting closer..._

She wiped the corners of her mouth on her sleeve and attempted to stand. As she pushed herself from the ground, her eyes narrowed; two beams of light were cutting through the darkness like knives. Andrea's pupils shrunk as the light fell on her face. She raised a hand to shield herself, skin going paper-white as the beams hit her.

"Andrea!" A familiar called out.

The sound of her own name rang in her ears like a siren.

"Andrea! Get over here! Now!" T-Dog leaned out of the Window, motioning for her to hurry.

Stunned, she began moving towards the light. She reached the truck and T-Dog threw open the passenger's side door; he extended a strong hand and pulled her up into the seat. Before Andrea could speak, he was slamming his foot on the gas and they were speeding around the side of the farm house. She glanced sideways at him and saw that his dark eyes were focused on the barn. "Did you see anyone else?" He asked.

"Carol," she answered softly.

"Just Carol?"

"Carl and Lori."

"Do you know if any of 'em made it? See if they got out?"

She shook her head, one hand darting to the ceiling as T-Dog increased the speed.

"Damn..." He smacked the steering wheel.

As they approached the barn, Andrea sucked in a sharp breath and pointed. "There!"

"What? What is it?" He leaned forward, his forehead nearly hitting the windshield.

"I think I see them!" She breathed.

T-Dog looked hard, his mouth dropping open as he spotted three figures headed for the tree line; the Grimes family ran ahead of large group of walkers.

"We've got to do something," said Andrea.

"Then let's do it." T-Dog stomped on the gas pedal, making the tires screech. "Hold on." There was a sudden jolt as the truck tore through the field; they were headed straight for a group of walkers.

Andrea's jaw clenched and her nails dug into the fabric on the ceiling.

"Here we go!" T-Dog yelled as he spun the wheel, crashing into several corpses. Andrea screamed as the bodies disappeared beneath the truck. They raced ahead and T-Dog continued to jerk the wheel, ramming as many walkers as he could. Thick, black blood was smeared across the windshield. "Lean out; tell me if you see 'em!" He cried over the sound of another collision.

She craned her neck and looked out the window. Lori, Carl and Rick were still ahead of the herd, but the gap was shrinking fast. "Straight ahead!" She cried. "We have to hurry!"

Maggie ran down the steps with Beth on her heels; each girl wore a backpack full to bursting. When they reached the living room, they found Glenn panting and flecked in dark blood. He ran to Maggie and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. "We have to go...there's too many...You need to tell your dad that it's over."

She stared at him, her eyes focusing on the blood.

"I'm fine...but we need to move. We loaded what we could in the cars..."

"Where's my dad?" Maggie asked.

"He's on the porch with his gun..." Glenn's fingers dug into her skin, "He thinks he can save this place."

Jimmy walked to the coffee table and plucked a rifle from the bag of guns that Daryl had left.

"What are you doing?" yelled Beth.

"Fightin'," he said before marching out the door.

Glenn locked eyes with Maggie, "We have to go," he repeated, pronouncing each word slowly, carefully. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, grabbing her sister's hand.

"Okay, we're making a run for the cars." He looked at Maggie, Beth and Patricia in turn. "Do not stop and do not look back." Glenn offered Maggie the crowbar and moved towards the coffee table. He pulled out a pistol before zipping the bag shut and hoisting it onto his shoulder. Taking a deep breath he crossed the living room and paused with his hand on the door. "Ready?" He stared at the three women, each offering silent affirmation. "Let's go." He held the door open and Maggie, Beth and Patricia hurried past him onto the porch.

The moonlight threw a strange shadow across the front of Daryl's tent and his fingers curled around the crossbow. There was a scratching sound as the figure began to claw at the flap, its brittle nails snapping and breaking with the effort. Unable to breach the barrier, the creature began to hiss.

"Ya want in?" Daryl whispered as he crept soundlessly through the tent. The walker moaned, pressing its weight into the flap. Daryl could see the ugly impression of its face in the vinyl as it struggled to reach him.

"Fine." In one fluid motion, he unzipped the flap and leapt to the side. The walker stumbled over the threshold, falling onto a pile on thin blankets. The second it was down, Daryl kicked, knocking the corpse onto its side. Growling and rasping, the creature flailed its arms wildly as it fought to rise. Daryl leered at it as he brought his boot down hard, crushing the monster's throat. A weak gurgle escaped it's jaws, followed by a small stream of blood. Gray lips continued to twitch and pale eyes stared up at Daryl as he pulled his knife from its sheath and jammed it into the walker's temple. Grunting, he jerked the blade free and looked around; more shadows moved across the tent, their groans drifting through the open flap.

Stepping over the corpse, Daryl sheathed his knife before stopping to grab his rucksack from amongst the dirty blankets. He crouched just to the left of the flap and peeked out. The walkers were everywhere...

_Where the hell did they all come from?_

Some wandered aimlessly, dark maws gaping, stiff arms hanging at their sides... Others seemed to be moving in groups...clusters...heads lifting as they caught the scent of live flesh on the air... His tongue darted out over chapped lips as he waited for the right moment. A smaller group lumbered past the tent, their feet dragging through the dirt. Daryl waited for the last one to pass; once he was satisfied with the distance between the group and his tent, he took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

His keen eyes darted left and right as he hurried to reach Merle's bike. Several walkers hissed when they spotted him.

_Shit!_

The Triumph waited beneath a large tree and Daryl hastily swung a leg over the seat. There was barely time to think as he stuffed his rucksack into one of the side bags. He didn't know where to go...what to do. Cursing, he gripped the handle bars until his knuckles turned white. His head hung low, hair falling in his eyes as he attempted to form a plan.

A sharp, painful cry cut through the cloud of his thoughts, causing his entire body to stiffen.

_Carol._

He kicked the start lever and the Triumph rumbled beneath him, drawing more walkers. Daryl ignored the approaching corpses as he wheeled around and sped off in the direction of the scream.

The walkers had long since driven Carol from the center of camp and now she sat shaking behind a small hen house. Her face and shirt were dotted with blood and she let her head fall forward onto bent knees. Carol clenched her teeth, realizing that she lacked the energy to cry. Her hands still held the blackened log and the end glistened now, coated in black slime; bits of red flesh wedged deep in the grain... A deep pain shot through her limbs at the prospect of lifting it again.

She peeked over her knees with red eyes, scanning the field...searching for the next threat. She knew the walkers were coming; she had minutes, maybe even seconds left before they would reach her...force her to run...again... Anger began to rise in her like a wave; it dawned on Carol that she had always been running...From Ed, from walkers...the memory of her daughter...from her feelings...everything...and she was so tired.

_Where did it get me?_

She pressed her forehead hard against her knees.

_Alone, in the dark...hiding... waiting for death to find me behind a damn chicken coup..._

The pointlessness of it all overwhelmed her and she dug her broken nails deep into the charred wood. Her bare feet stung, covered in scratches and dirt...She almost laughed...

_How could you not stop to grab shoes?_

The thought withered in her mind as the smell of corruption reached her nostrils.

_They're close..._

A growl slipped from her lips as she forced herself to stand. Her legs trembled and she fell back against the hen house, startling the birds nestled inside. "Dammitt," she muttered as the scrape burned through her shirt. She bit her lip and lifted the heavy log to her chest. "Alright," she breathed, the muscles in her arms tensing as she clutched her weapon. There was a soft creaking as something climbed the small ramp on the other side of the coup. The hens cackled wildly; Carol could hear the frantic beating of their wings as they struggled in vain to escape the walker. She exhaled slowly, trying to block out the pitiful sounds the hens were making behind her. She gripped the log like a bat and waited.

_Come on... _

The smell of rancid meat grew stronger as the monster approached with an awkward shuffling gait. Carol caught a quick glimpse of it before pulling her head back behind the wall.

_Not very big...A woman..._

At least God had seen fit to grant her that small advantage. She wasn't sure if she could stand against one of the larger walkers at this point. Maddened by the closeness of its prey, the walker quickened its pace, yellow eyes glowing eerily in the dark.

_Come on!_

She dug her heels into the dirt, preparing to fight. As the creature rounded the corner, Carol summoned every ounce of strength left in her bones and swung the log. Soft flesh gave way under the impact; teeth flew with red spray from the walker's ruined mouth and its broken jaw hung slack at a terrible angle. Carol staggered, dropping the log.

_No...It wasn't enough..._

Tilting its head, the walker fixed Carol in a cold, unnatural stare. Blood oozed slowly, like a thick, dark syrup, over its chin. It rasped and began to move towards her, arms rising, seeking the warmth of living flesh. Carol backed away slowly, unable to take her eyes from its nightmarish face.

_Help..._

The word formed in her fevered brain but she couldn't seem to get it past her lips...not with the hungry corpse advancing, quicker now...fingers clawing at the air...

_HELP!_

As she continued to walk backwards, she stumbled. The ground was cold and wet beneath her and she shook her head, trying to will away the awful creature. She scrambled, scooting back through the dirt but the walker was looming over her now...its breathing rough and ragged as if there were gravel in its dark throat. Finally, with death staring her in the face, the wave of hurt and anger crashed inside Carol, flooding her senses and forcing one last desperate plea from her heart to her lips..she screamed...

"HELP ME!"

Her throat was dry as she hurled the heavy words into the night, like glass bottles into the sea. She raised a pale arm and shielded her face as the walker fell forward, sprawling across her body. Her mind reeling, Carol jerked beneath the dead weight...its blood already seeping into her shirt. Sucking in quick shallow breaths, she gripped the creature's shoulders and attempted to push it from her.

_What happened? Why..._

Grunting, Carol managed to shove the walker from her chest. It's legs still covered hers but she kicked at it angrily and sat up. Her hands went to her hair as she studied the corpse with wide eyes. She bent over it carefully, her eyes narrowing when she saw the feathered shaft protruding from the back of its skull.

_But...how?_

Her head snapped up and she scanned the field. She froze when she saw him; in the distance, Daryl stood beside the Triumph and slowly lowered his bow. Her lips parted as she fought to grasp what he'd done... Carol stood, taking several shaky steps in his direction but something stopped her. She turned and stared down at the walker that had nearly taken her life. She knelt beside it, one hand grabbing on to its tangled hair while the other pulled the arrow free. Carol rose, her eyes finding Daryl's dark form across the field. She straightened and wiped the arrow clean on her shorts before breaking into a run.

Daryl's breathing slowed as he watched Carol hurry over the field. He slung the bow over his shoulder and mounted the bike. The engine roared as he kicked the lever and rode to meet her. He eased to a stop in front of her and the two stood silent in the center of the field. Her blue eyes were wide as she extended an arm and offered up the arrow. He took it gently from her hand and shrugged off his bow to secure the arrow on the rack with the others. She hugged herself and stared at the ground, unsure of what to say...how to express even one of the feelings that was swirling in her head. Daryl swallowed and broke the silence, "C'mon," he whispered.

She looked up at him, a crease forming in her brow.

He glanced at the empty space on the seat behind him then turned back to face her. "Ain't got all day." More walkers were moving over the hills and they could both hear shots being fired in the distance. Steeling herself, she stepped closer to the bike. Daryl waited while she placed her palms flat on the seat and hoisted herself up. With one leg clinging firmly to each side, Carol sat up, rigid, leaving as much space as she could between herself and Daryl. She wrung her hands, focusing on her wedding band.

"Best hold on," he called over his shoulder as he kicked the lever. The bike was alive beneath her; startled she slid forward on the seat, her arms circling Daryl's torso. Before she could speak they were tearing over the field towards the main gate. She closed her eyes, pressing her face into the back of Daryl's vest as they leaned and swerved to avoid walkers. The wind whipped past her, stinging her cheeks and she could hear gunfire over the roar of the engine...but she never looked to see where the sounds came from...She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that they hurt and she never dared to open them until they reached the dirt road that lead away from the farm. She could feel the difference in terrain beneath them as they left the grass.

Somewhere between the appearance of the herd and their reaching the road, the sky had gone from deep blue, to dull gray, signaling the arrival of dawn. With her cheek resting on Daryl's back, She watched the trees whiz past them, green blurs... The early morning had brought a chill with it and Carol tightened her grip on Daryl's middle. She could feel him tense as her nails dug into the front of his shirt but she was too tired to care. He'd given her the crossbow so that she could lean against him more comfortably but the thing was heavy on her slight frame and her shoulder ached under the weight, the skin growing red where the strap dug in. Her legs were numb from clinging to the bike but she never complained; she didn't speak at all.

Daryl never looked back as he and Carol sped past the gate. The farm was covered in walkers and all he could do was hold out hope that the others had gotten away..._would_ get away... He tried to focus on the empty road ahead and the fact that they were both alive, safe...at least for now...but it was proving difficult. He thought of Rick, Glenn... of Herschel and his family...Carl...

_I shoulda done more._

Doubt and dark thoughts circled in his mind like vultures over a carcass. They picked away at him, little by little until he was ready to scream. Just as a curse was about to pass his lips, hot and dry, the word died on his tongue. She pulled at him, bringing their bodies closer. He could feel her weight on his back; she was shaking as her fingers clung to his shirt just above his navel. Despite the way she shivered, Carol felt warm against him. Daryl sighed, watching white dashes disappear beneath the tires.

Carol couldn't remember falling asleep but when she opened her eyes, Daryl was pulling over and the bike slowed to a stop. It must have been mid-morning, but the sun had never emerged; she looked up at a flat, gray sky and wondered how long they'd been riding…how far they'd gotten. As the engine died, Carol's fingers curled instinctively, nails almost pricking the skin under his shirt; she didn't want to let go.

As if he'd heard her, Daryl remained on the bike after it had stilled. They sat together and he rubbed the back of his neck, waiting for her to relax around him. She inhaled the scent of leather and gasoline surrounding her, savoring it. She wanted to remember this…this moment and all its little details… The feel of him in her arms…cold morning air pressing against her skin, the tall pines that loomed on either side of their lonely stretch of road…everything…

Daryl's hands slid to his waist and hovered over hers. Carefully, he pried her fingers from him and she drew her stiff arms to her chest. Carol leaned back, separating from him and he swung his leg over the seat. He offered his hand and helped her down.

"Where are we" She asked as she stood rubbing her arms.

"Bout fifteen miles out is my guess." He turned and spat.

Carol shifted from one foot to the other, wincing as small cuts reopened on her heels.

"Why'd we stop?"

"Gotta take a piss," He nodded in the direction of the trees.

She looked away, a hint of color rising to her cheeks.

"Keep both eyes open...be right back," he said as he turned to go.

Carol watched as he ducked into the woods. The instant he was out of sight, questions began to flood her mind.

_What are we doing? Where are we going? The others…did they make it? How will we find them? What if they couldn't get out? What are we going to do…._

Before she could even attempt to answer any of them, Daryl reappeared at the tree line. He jogged towards her, motioning with his fingers "Lemme get that from ya."

Her hands went to the thick strap on her shoulder and she slid the crossbow down for Daryl to take. He stepped past her, placing the weapon on the seat of the Triumph. "Think I got somethin' in here," he bent over, searching through one of his side bags. When he turned around he had a bottle of water in one hand and an apple in the other. Carol's eyed widened when she saw the green fruit. "C'mon," he said as he slumped to the ground and took a sip of water. Carol sat beside him, the bike at their backs; her legs were stiff and aching as she attempted to cross them. He wiped his mouth and passed her the bottle. "Go on; look like you're 'bout to drop."

Carol took the bottle and stared at the mouth…where his lips had been seconds before.

_Not now…You can't be thinking about this…not after everything…._

But she still found herself shaking as she tilted her head back and took a drink. Some of the water dripped down her chin as she pulled the bottle away. He was tossing the apple from one hand to the other and she watched with fascination. Daryl could feel her staring and he looked up, "This?" He held up the small fruit, its skin shining in his dirty hand.

She studied him questioningly.

"Ya gave it to me before the pharmacy run; guess it came in handy after all." He offered it to her.

Carol handed back the water and took the apple. It was smooth and bright as she rolled it in her palm. She looked at him as he took another swig from the bottle. "Go on," he urged; she nodded, biting hard, breaking the skin. The texture was gritty between her teeth and the juice was tart, spraying a bit from her lips as she chewed. She closed her eyes, relishing the taste and wishing there were ten more tucked into that bag.

"Any good?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's alright; try it and see." She spoke with her mouth full, one hand in front of her lips. She tossed him the apple, forcing him to catch it. He passed her the bottle.

He tore a chunk from the green fruit, grunting as he did so. Carol watched with parted lips as he bit down, his teeth grazing the mark hers had left. "Decent," he smirked. Carol looked down and ran a hand trough her hair.

They enjoyed the stillness as they ate. It seemed to Carol they'd left the herd behind miles ago and somehow stumbled onto a stretch of road, of trees that were undisturbed by walkers…by death. When Daryl chucked away the core, he began to scratch at the ground, the nail on his index finger tracing lines in the dirt… "Carol?"

The sound of her own name roused her from her thoughts. "Hmm?"

"Back there…when I found ya…"

"Daryl; don't," she sighed rubbing bridge of her nose. Carol may have been exhausted, dehydrated and quite possibly in a state of shock but one thing she knew for certain was that she did not want to talk about what happened at the farm…the herd, the moment on the roof…any of it. She wasn't ready, at least not yet. _This _was fine…_now_ was fine. But back there? That was something different…

Daryl tugged at his hair. "When I found ya…"

She turned, shooting him an angry look but he stared right back and continued.

"Ya looked like…." His nails grazed his scalp, "Like you'd been fightin'."

Carol stared at the trees and took another sip of water, "Yeah."

"Ya see anybody else? After it started?"

She scratched at the flecks of dried blood on her face, "Lori, Carl…Andrea." The words fell softly from her lips and she could feel warmth building behind her eyes.

"Ya see where they went? If they made it to the house? The cars?"

"No," she bit out. "I lost them when the herd hit camp; there were too many and I…" Her voice broke and she placed a hand over her mouth. "I lost them…" A hot tear rolled down her face as her chin quivered.

"Can't know that," he said, facing her. "Ya fought your way clear across the damn farm. What makes ya think they didn't do the same?" He leaned forward, his voice harsh as the words hung in the air before her.

"I don't know," she cried. "I just wish I could have done more…helped them…"

"Ain't your fault," he said as he moved to touch her arm.

She quickly turned towards him, catching his wrists before he could reach her. "I should have done more!" She screamed through her tears, fingers tightening around his wrists.

Shocked by her anger and the pressure of her grip, Daryl fell silent.

"_I lost them_…" she whispered through clenched teeth. His blue eyes searched her face and she felt herself crumple like wet paper. All of her strength seemed to abandon her and Carol's hands slid from his wrists, down his arms, stopping at his elbows. She held on, not knowing what else to do, her head hung low as tears collected on the tip of her nose. Daryl her shoulders rise and fall as she sobbed.

_She's sittin' here cyrin' because ya made her say what you were already thinkin'…and what fuckin' good did it do?_

Angry at himself, at everything…Daryl grabbed her forearms and pulled her towards him. He swallowed as he felt her go slack in his grasp, her body pressed to his chest. Her head was resting over his heart and her arms found their way around his stomach as she cried into his shirt.

Through the thick haze of grief, anger and exhaustion, Carol couldn't understand why Daryl had pulled her in, but her mind would not allow her to question the action. She only possessed enough strength to curl up against him and hold on to the one person she had left in the world.


	14. Scattered

**As always, I want to start off by saying thank you for your feedback! It is helpful and much appreciated : ) Also, I realize that this chapter and the previous one took a bit longer to post but I am currently in the process of moving and planning my wedding so thanks so much for hanging in there with me! I so enjoy spending time on this story and on all the great Caryl stories this site has to offer! To all you awesome TWD fanatics out there, keep reading, keep writing and have fun!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead...and neither do you : P**

**Chapter 14: Scattered**

Herschel flinched when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see Maggie, fear plain on her face.

"Daddy," she said with a shaking voice. The word sounded strange in Herschel's ears; he blinked before glancing back out at the farm now overrun with walkers.

"Daddy!" She repeated, louder this time, shaking his arm. Herschel tore his eyes form the carnage on the field and focused on his daughter.

"We need to go; there's nothing else you can do…" Maggie tugged at his sleeve but he wrenched away from her.

"I'm not leavin' my farm…_our_ farm." He raised his gun and fired, taking out another walker in the distance. Beth covered her ears at the sound of the shot.

"It's not ours anymore!" Maggie cried, gesturing outward with her hand, at the hundreds of corpses now stumbling over the hills.

Herschel's heart filled with bitterness, rage and sorrow, causing it to grow heavy in his chest. He turned around; Patricia stood in front of the screen door, her arms draped protectively around Beth. Herschel felt his resolve crumble as he watched his youngest daughter tremble, delicate hands pressed tightly to her ears, silent tears spilling over her cheeks. Jimmy and Glenn stared down at him from the top step.

"It's your say," Jimmy tipped the rifle back, letting it rest against his shoulder. "If you wanna stay and fight, I'll fight. You say go...I'll follow you."

Herschel responded with a stiff nod.

"I know that this is hard, but we really don't have time to weigh pros and cons here." Glenn was growing restless as walkers drew nearer to the house. "If we want to get out of here alive, we need to move NOW." He hefted the bag of guns on his shoulder and looked at everyone in turn.

"Daddy," Maggie sniffed, "He's right. Me 'n Beth got some things packed; we'll be alright…we just gotta leave," she pleaded.

Herschel swallowed hard, lowering his gun in defeat. "Alright," he sighed, his eyes going to the ground, "Let's go."

Glenn hurried to the bottom step, stopping to look up at the rest of them. "Stay close; we've gotta make it to the cars. Do not stop running." He eyed each of them before letting his gaze linger on Maggie. She nodded, fingers curling around the crowbar he'd given her. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath, "Follow me." He stepped onto the grass and the others made their way down the steps; Jimmy and Herschel kept their weapons raised. Patricia and Beth clung to one another and Maggie moved to Glenn's side.

The group broke into a run as Glenn lead them across the field, towards the remaining cars. They kept their heads down as they tried to skirt groups of roaming walkers. "Maggie!" Herschel called out as one of the ugly creatures lunged at his daughter. Screaming, Maggie swung the crowbar. She squeezed her eyes shut as the cold metal collided with bone, breaking the walker's jaw.

"Keep moving!" Glenn yelled over his shoulder. The monsters were gaining on them. Jimmy stopped and turned, facing a group of starving corpses. With outstretched arms and pale eyes, they advanced, hungry, relentless… Jimmy's upper lip curled back in anger as he took aim, burying a bullet in the brain of a large walker; the broken body slumped to the ground but the others quickly trampled it and continued their pursuit. Jimmy's eyes were wide as he watched them; there seemed to be no end to the monsters…. One after another after another…they emerged from the shadows, teeth bared, groaning….

_There's no way…. We can't get 'em all…_

He shook his head and swore, tearing his gaze from the ravenous horde of corpses behind him.

"Keep moving!" Glenn yelled over his shoulder; he motioned with his arm for them to hurry. The group tightened their formation as walkers began to approach them from all sides. Beth's head was buried in Patricia's shoulder as they ran; Maggie clung desperately to Glenn's hand. "Get back!" Herschel grunted as he shoved the barrel of his gun into a walker's chest, forcing it to stumble backwards…but more were coming…

"We're almost there; I can see the cars!" Glenn cried as he raised his weapon and fired. Maggie flinched at the sound but never let go of his hand. She sucked in a sharp breath as she looked back and saw two corpses headed straight for Patricia. "Lookout!" She screamed. Patricia turned just in time to see a pale hand reach out to her, its stiff fingers clutching at the sleeve of her nightgown. Her mouth dropped open, releasing a silent scream. Beth gripped Patricia's waist, trying to pull her away but in the next instant, there was a bang and the slimy contents of the creature's skull were splattered across the purple nightgown. The two women stared down in shock at the fallen walker, unaware that another had crept up behind them. A terrible gurgling sound bubbled up from its throat as it lunged for Beth but Jimmy shoved her roughly aside, stepping into the walker's path. Before he could raise his gun, the creature caught hold of his shoulders and sunk it's rotten teeth into his neck. It bit down hard, pulling away a large chunk of flesh.

"NO!" Beth was screaming as the tears rolled down her face. She moved to help him but Patricia grabbed her wrist, yanking her away. She pressed her lips to Beth's ear and whispered hoarsely through clenched teeth, "We can't help him now…we have to go!" She tugged the young girl after her. Choking with grief, Beth could only watch and mouth the word "No," over and over as the monster struggled to tear the meat from Jimmy's throat. It jerked it's head back, snapping the shining, red strings that connected Jimmy's flesh to his body. Beth had never seen so much blood; it gushed, a dark torrent from his neck, staining the walker's chin. More trickled from the corner's of his mouth as he tried to speak… to scream. His lips glistened red and his eyes found Beth's as he let the rifle fall to the ground. More corpses were converging around him, maddened by the smell of fresh blood. Herschel turned, taking his daughter under his arm, forcing her to look away. Patricia held one hand over her mouth as she ran, forbidding the sobs to tumble from her lips; her arm still trembled where the monster had touched her. It seemed to Maggie that no matter how far they ran, the sound still reached them; a desperate broken wail that she knew she would hear until her dying day.

The strength had drained from Beth's body and it was only her father's arm around her that allowed her to stand. She couldn't seem to catch her breath and the others kept yelling, urging her to move. Their voices sounded strange, distorted as blood pounded in her ears. All she knew was that he was gone…_Jimmy_ was gone. He had been there, beside her, in front of her….and then he was gone…his life ripped away…spilling into the ground… Beth's chest was on fire and her stomach churned as Herschel drug her along.

When they reached the first car, Glenn yanked the back door open and the women piled in. Herschel looked into the backseat, his eyes softening as he stared at the frightened faces of his loved ones. His gaze lingered on Beth; her narrow shoulders shook as she leaned into her sister's embrace. He nodded at Maggie and Patricia before slamming the door shut and walking around to the passenger's side. By the time Herschel was in his seat, Glenn was revving the engine.

"Alright," said the younger man, glancing back at the women, "hold on." He slammed his foot down on the gas and the car lurched forward. He sped between two large trees, hitting several walkers that had gathered there. He cursed as a severed arm slid down the windshield, leaving a slick trial of gore behind it. In the backseat, Patricia was squeezing Beth's hand. Maggie held her sister tightly, one hand in her soft, blonde curls and the other curling up protectively over a weak shoulder. All she could do was close her eyes and whisper into Beth's hair, "It's okay; it's okay…shhh; it's okay…" Patricia rubbed her thumb over the young girl's knuckles before pulling the small hand to her lips and kissing it.

"What now?" Herschel asked as he looked over at Glenn.

"We find the others," he answered, swerving to avoid a larger group of walkers.

Herschel gripped the door handle, bracing himself. "You really think anybody made it out of this?"

Glenn eyed him for a moment. "I have to look for them," he said, his voice low, angry. "I have to _try_." He spun the wheel to the left, taking them back towards the house. "Can you move this?" He looked down at the bag of guns on his lap. Herschel quickly pulled the bag away and passed it back to Patricia. "Keep your eyes open," said Glenn; he caught Maggie's hazel eyes in the rearview mirror. "Yell if you see anyone…any of our people." Maggie gave him a small nod, her eyes going to the windows. "I'm going to swing back around the house; doesn't look like many of those things have made it that far yet." His tongue darted out over his lips as he pressed the gas pedal into the floor.

T-Dog and Andrea were racing towards the tree line, towards their friends who had been cut off by a large group of walkers. He leaned out of the window and called to them, "Rick! Lori! Carl!" He honked the horn and increased the speed. "They hear us?" His brow furrowed as he looked at Andrea.

"I don't know; we need to get closer." She waved her arms, signaling but they wouldn't turn around…wouldn't look back. "Dammitt." She slumped back into her seat.

T-Dog bit his lip as the pickup gained momentum, flying over the field. When he finally reached the front of the column he saw Rick; the deputy's fingers were curled tightly around his wife's wrist and his son was pressed to his side. Their arms pumped as they ran for their lives; their meager speed keeping them only steps ahead of the corpses. "Hey!" He yelled from the truck.

Rick's eyes went wide as he took in the sight before him…T-Dog and Andrea were calling out to him from the safety of the pickup. He and Lori were red-faced, panting as the truck slowed alongside them. "Get in!" T-Dog cried, he eyed the advancing column with nervousness. Dazed, Rick stood before the bed of the truck and helped his wife over. Lori reached out and took Carl's hand as he slung an arm over the side before crawling up. Finally, Rick ground his teeth and grunted as he hoisted himself up and into the bed with his family. T-Dog wasted no time, tearing out of the field before the shaken passengers could gain their balance. Lori fell and Rick moved to catch her. Breathless, the small family crouched together in the center of the truck bed. "Don't go near the edges; keep your heads down," said Rick as he draped his arms around his wife and son. Carl nodded, his eyes darting between the frightened faces of his parents.

"Ya'll see anyone?" T-Dog called back to them.

Rick flinched as they hit a bump, the jolt sending Carl onto his back. "No!" He answered, reaching for his son. "Last I saw…Shane and Glenn were headed to the RV." He learned forward, grabbing Carl's hand and pulling him up. "But when the herd moved in…I lost 'em. Only thing I thought about was finding Lori and Carl."

"Carol…" the boy tugged at his mother's sleeve; she looked at him, her dark eyes wild with fear.

"What?" Her voice was weak; Carl inched closer, squeezing her hand.

"Carol; when we were leaving the tent…she was still there. I saw her across camp."

Rick lowered his head, locking eyes with his son. "Did she get out?" He placed a firm hand on Carl's shoulder.

"I…I don't know. There were walkers everywhere…she was surrounded." A shadow seemed to pass over the boy's face and he leaned into his mother's side.

In the front of the truck, T-Dog and Andrea exchanged glances. "What if it's just us?" She asked, her eyes rimmed with red.

He chewed his lower lip and squinted to see through the thick smears of blood covering the windshield. "We accept it…and move on. Can't stay here." He turned the wheel, bringing the truck around the corner of the house.

Andrea slumped back against the seat, her hands going to her hair. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the idea of such terrible loss.

_Carol…Glenn, Shane…Daryl….Herschel and his family… They can't just be…gone… Not like this…._

She felt a fresh wave of nausea hit and quickly bent forward, hanging her head between her knees.

Glenn's hope was wearing thin as he scanned the fields, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar face amidst the chaos. He swallowed hard as he looked to the left and saw the group of corpses huddled over the spot where Jimmy had fallen. His hands were sweaty as he gripped the wheel tighter. "_Somebody _had to make it," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"If they didn't…" said Herschel, his fingers clawing at the fabric of the seat.

Glenn shot him an angry look.

"If..they didn't…" He stopped to lick his dry lips. "What do you plan to do?"

The question hit Glenn hard and he blinked, unable to answer. Adrenaline had been carrying him, making decisions for him… His mind had not stopped racing long enough to consider the possibility that his friends might already be dead… He eyed Herschel before leaning over the steering wheel, "They're out there…they've gotta be," Glenn slammed a fist down on the dashboard.

_Rick….I can't do this. I don't know where to go…what to do. How do I protect these people?_

His thoughts went to the three women in the backseat…to the losses they had already been made to endure…

_Please, Rick. I don't know how to do this…_

Fear and doubt were warring in his mind, making his skull pound. He pressed harder on the gas, swearing. As the car swung wildly around the corner of the house, A blinding light caused Glenn to shield his eyes. Herschel's hands darted to the steering wheel jerking it to the right. Maggie and Patricia screamed as the vehicle swerved away from the lights. There was a sharp screeching sound as the world stopped moving and the women slammed into one another. The back of Maggie's head smacked into the cold glass of the window; Beth and Patricia were jammed against her, limbs tangled…aching from the impact. As Glenn struggled to catch his breath, he turned, "You okay?"

Maggie groaned as she sat up, one hand going to the back of her head. "I think so." She winced as her fingers gently touched the throbbing spot on her skull.

Herschel reached back and found Beth's hand. "Ya alright sweetheart?"

She forced herself up and wiped the tears from her face. "Yeah; you?"

He nodded, rubbing her hand.

"What was that?" Patricia asked as she waited for her heart to stop pounding.

Glenn's looked out the window; something was piercing the gloom. Walkers were silhouetted against twin beams of white light. "It's them," Glenn whispered, more to himself than the others.

Patricia pressed her hands to the glass and squinted through the darkness. "Oh my god…"

"It's them," Glenn repeated, louder this time. "It's them!" Mastering himself, he applied some pressure to the gas pedal and the car slowly crept towards the pickup.

The sudden stop sent Lori and Carl crashing against the rear windshield. Rick stumbled into them before they all fell backwards. T-Dog's fingers were pressed hard into Andrea's collarbone; when he'd slammed on the breaks, he could see her body lurching forward and his hand had gone out to keep her in place. Her nails dug deeper into the seat with each ragged breath. "What….happened?" The words dropped from her lips as she gasped for air.

T-Dog leaned out the window and lifted a hand to his eyes. "You gotta be kidding me…"

"What?" She breathed.

"It's another damn car. Somebody made it…"

Andrea's green eyes widened as the vehicle approached them, bumping the occasional walker.

The silver Buick slowed to a stop as it pulled up alongside the truck. Glenn and T-Dog locked eyes.

"Man, you alright?" T-Dog called.

Glenn lowered his window, shock plain on his face. "Yeah; I've got Herschel, Maggie, Patricia and Beth…you?"

"This one here," he pointed to Andrea in the passenger's seat. "And we got Rick, Lori and Carl in the back."

Glenn closed his eyes, taking a moment to process the relief that was washing over him like warm water. He rolled his shoulders and released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. When he looked up, T-Dog was staring at him.

"We gotta go man."

"Where?" Glenn turned to look at the nervous women in the backseat.

"Back to the highway…spot where we left the sign for Sophia. We can figure things out from there."

Glenn nodded and pressed a button; he watched as the glass pane slowly rose…for an instant, he saw his own black eyes reflected but beyond that…hundreds of walkers were advancing…drawn by the sound of the vehicles. He cleared his throat, "We're gonna follow them back to the highway…we'll work something out when we get there." Maggie leaned forward and squeezed his shoulder. They all watched as the pickup sped past; Lori, Rick and Carl clung to each other in the truck bed. The deputy's eyes narrowed as he took in the familiar faces staring at him from the Buick.

_ They're alive… _

T-Dog lead them toward the main gate, clearing a crude path through the throng of bodies. They trailed after the truck, their nails raking across the sides. Lori covered her ears, attempting to block out the terrible scraping. One of the creatures had latched on to the tailgate, its gray hand rising up over the edge. Rick scooted forward, kicking at it with the heel of his boot. The walker growled as it fell away and Rick quickly backed up into his wife's embrace. She clutched at the back of his shirt, "Stay…please." A lone tear slid down her cheek and she let her forehead rest against his shoulder. "I'm not goin' anywhere," he whispered looking at her and Carl in turn.

There were only a few yards separating the vehicles and Glenn swerved as a walker was thrown from the tailgate. The Buick's left front tire rolled over the body, crushing it and Glenn felt bile rising in the back of his throat. "We're nearly there," said Herschel as he pointed into the distance. Glenn could barely make out the gate through the sticky film of blood and gore that coated the windshield.

_Almost there… _

In the backseat, Beth's face was hidden in the crook of her sister's neck; her tears were hot as they rolled over Maggie's collar bone. Every now and then she sniffed and her entire body trembled with the effort.

"Hey," Maggie said softly, her chin resting on the top of her sister's head. "It's alright; we're gonna be okay," but Beth pulled away suddenly.

"What is it?" Maggie's large, hazel eyes questioned her.

Beth wiped her nose and twisted in her seat. She looked back at the house, a sob forming in her chest. Patricia and Maggie followed her gaze; the entire farm was swarming with walkers. Beth clenched her teeth as anger and revulsion rose in her. They were everywhere, disgusting, filthy things….mindless hordes..

_ …Like rats…_

Her fingers clawed weakly at the glass as she watched her home shrinking in the distance. Maggie's hand hovered over her sister's and they mourned in silence. Glenn followed T-Dog rounding the gate and Beth wiped at her nose.

"Do you think we'll ever see it again?" She whispered, her eyes never leaving the window.

Maggie and Patricia shared a look, sad knowledge passing from one to the other. "I don't know," Maggie lied. "Only thing that matters right now is that you're safe," she kissed her sister's hair.

Herschel was quiet in the passenger's seat, refusing to turn and face the horror they were leaving behind. He didn't want to remember the farm…not this way… Not covered in corpses… He sighed heavily, the shotgun resting across his knees. The metal clacked against his tired bones as the car sped over the dirt road.

Andrea's brows knit together and she sat up straighter in her seat. "What's that?" She mumbled to herself, her forehead leaning against the window.

"You say somethin'?" T-Dog asked.

"Is that..._No_…" Her body stiffened and she stared hard at the small figure running in the distance. "Shane," she breathed, fogging the glass around her mouth.

"Hey," T-Dog shot her a quick glance, "See somethin?"

She turned to face him, "It's Shane! I saw Shane!" Moonlight seemed to flash in her eyes. "Up ahead!" She jabbed a finger into the windshield. The old truck bounced and rattled as they tore down the road. Andrea raised a hand, motioning for them to stop as they pulled alongside the running man.

Shane's lips were covered in spittle and strong arms were pumping at his sides as he ran. Sweat ran from his temples down his back, plastering the gray shirt to his skin. Each breath was heavy, painful, straining his lungs and sticking in his throat. Disoriented, fueled only by adrenaline and the overpowering need to escape, Shane had trouble registering the sound of his own name as someone yelled it nearby.

"Shane! Shane; it's us…stop!" Andrea was leaning out of the window, her hands cupped around her mouth.

He stopped, swinging around suddenly to find the source of the sound. His mouth hung open as ragged breaths escaped him. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and blinked.

_Andrea?_

He cocked his head to the side and took a shaky step back in disbelief. Then another voice reached him. "Shane! Hurry up and get in! We gotta go!"

_Rick?_

Shane stumbled forwards, his fingers curling around the side of the truck bed. "C'mon!" Rick grunted as he grabbed Shane's hand, pulling him over the edge. The big man collapsed and lay heaving in front of his partner. Lori and Carl hovered over him. As soon as Andrea saw Rick help him up she sank bank into her seat and nodded to T-Dog; he nodded back and they continued on down the road.

"Shane?"

He opened his eyes and saw Lori staring down at him, her face pale, creamy white. She laid a hand on his forehead and bent lower, her dark hair brushing his lips. "Shane?" She whispered hoarsely, "Are you alright?"

"Damn geeks…" he muttered between coughs, "Everywhere…"

Lori looked at her husband.

"Hey; you hurt? Get bit? Scratched?" Rick asked, staring down at his partner.

Shane managed to shake his head. "Naw, man."

Rick ran two hands over his own face in relief.

"What happened?" Carl asked as he knelt beside his mother.

Shane ground his teeth as he propped himself up on his elbows. Lori withdrew her hand, letting it drop to her thigh.

"I told Glenn he had to get back to the house…get Herschel 'n them. I hung back, covered him…"

Carl inched closer, "Then what?" His blue eyes were wide, curious.

"T jumped in the truck and I told him go look for ya'll. I had to stay, make sure Glenn made it to the house." Shane sat up, rubbing his neck. "Soon as I saw him climb the porch steps, I took off. Things were all over the place…just comin' from everywhere. Only thing I could figure was I had to get out…head for the road…Didn't stop runnin' till ya'll found me."

"Thank god," Lori said softly as she lowered her gaze.

Rick scratched at his stubble before clearing his throat, "You see Carol?"

Shane looked from Lori to Carl and saw the concern on their faces, "Naw. Didn't see much of anythin' after Glenn...All happened so fast."

Rick nodded, sighing deeply. "We don't know where she is…if she made it. Can't find Daryl either."

"Think they got out?" Shane slung the rifle off his shoulder and set it down.

"I don't know." Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head.

"Why are we stoppin'?" Patricia asked from the back seat.

Glenn stared open-mouthed as Shane approached the pickup. "You've gotta be kidding me…" he said to himself. He saw Rick reach out and pull his partner into the truck bed. "Its Shane…" Glenn pressed a hand to his forehead in disbelief. He turned to look at the three women, huddled together in the back seat; his eyes lingered on Maggie.

_How the hell did we make it out?_

He swallowed hard, realizing that it could have been her…Her soft, white throat being torn open…her blood soaking the grass. He closed his eyes, hating the fact that he was glad it had been Jimmy…and not _her_. Not one of _his_ people… Before the mixed feelings could overwhelm him, Glenn felt a hand on his shoulder.

"We need to go," said Herschel.

Glenn shifted in his seat and refocused on the pickup. T-Dog was moving again and Glenn quickly followed. None of the weary passengers knew what lay ahead of them as they flew over the dirt road, tires sending up thick clouds of red dust in their wake…All they knew was that behind them loomed death and destruction…a few loved ones buried beneath an old tree….terrible loss… In the distance, the sky lightened as evening gave way to dawn. Fingers intertwined and trembling bodies clung to one another as they were all driven forward into an uncertain future. Hushed words of comfort fluttered like moths from dry lips and none of them looked back.

_The muscles in her arms were screaming as she swung the log…_

_ Where are they all coming from? So…many…._

_ The walker dissolved in front of her, billions of atoms splitting apart, disappearing into nothingness…For an instant, she was reminded of the ocean…of holding a fistful of sand beneath the water and watching as the push and pull of the current stole the grains from her palm… The darkness of the farm fell away and Carol squinted as the sun hit her eyes. Salty air whipped past, and Sophia was tugging at her shorts…_

_ "Come on mom! I wanna play in the waves! Daddy said I could; come on!"_

_ Carol's lips parted as she stared down at her daughter. There was a big gap where her two front teeth should have been, and her face was greasy with sunscreen. "Come on!" She tugged harder at her mother's clothes._

_ Speechless, Carol let Sophia pull her forward; the sand felt so strange beneath her bare feet and she dug her toes in as they walked. Up ahead, small waves roared as they flung themselves at the shore…Sophia stared as they flattened themselves and rolled like liquid glass over the damp sand._

_ Where are we? When…?_

_ "Can we build a sandcastle?" Sophia was grinning as she slumped to the ground, her little hands scooping up clumps of wet sand. Carol dropped down beside her, watching in awe as Sophia moved, spoke, laughed, breathed in front of her…._

_ How?_

_ The happy child giggled as she spread her fingers, letting blobs slip from her hands and plop to the ground. "Let's build a giant castle!" She bit her tongue and tilted her head, staring at her mother with big blue eyes._

_ All Carol could do was nod as a tear slid down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away and placed her palms flat on the sound. She took a deep breath, smelling, tasting the salt in the air…the coconut sunscreen…the warm, soft smell of Sophia's hair. She crawled closer to her daughter, the grains coarse under her hands, rubbing at her knees…coarse…like…like something else….She dug her fingers in deep and felt the grains getting trapped beneath her nails…_

_ Where have I felt this bef…._

_ The question withered in her mind as she looked up and saw that Sophia was gone._

_No…._

_ She opened her mouth to speak but before she could call out, ink spilled across the sky, turning it black. She froze and looked up…it was as if the sun had dropped into the sea, taking all of the warmth and light with it. The wind whipped harder, stealing Sophia's name from her lips. Everything was fading…the waves fell silent…even the smells were gone…replaced by new ones…_

_ Carol squinted as the wind howled around her. She tried to focus…her senses fighting to catch the familiar scent on the air.._

_ Grass? Trees..? But…._

_ It seemed wrong somehow…and the sand felt so strange under her hands…_

_ What is…?_

_ The world shifted violently beneath her, rippling, changing… She clung to the ground and watched, horrified, as the sand darkened…golden-brown giving way to deep green._

_ She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt herself lurching forward…falling…up? Down? She couldn't be sure… Thoughts spun in her skull, tumbling over themselves as she braced for impact. Warm air rushed past her face and her mouth was open in a silent scream as she landed with a thud on something soft. The wind was knocked from her lungs as she lay reeling on a thick blanket._

_ Carol was trembling as her hand moved over the rough fabric. Even through the gloom she could make out the dark-green coloring. She lay on her stomach, waiting for the pain in her limbs to subside. Sloppy, fractured thoughts were slowly forming in the back of her mind._

_ Green? But…_

_ She curled her fingers, feeling the coarse, familiar texture of Dale's blanket._

_ How?_

_ She hissed as she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Carol stared out at the wood line, a single word coming to her lips, "Sophia." Her chin quivered as she realized that her daughter was gone…ripped away with the sun and sand…_

_ "Ya say somethin'?"_

_ She looked over her shoulder and froze._

_ Daryl?_

_ She closed her eyes and counted…. _

_ One…two, three, four… _

_ But when they opened he was still there…Sitting on the other end of the roof with a rifle in his lap. Her brows knit together as she turned to face him. She sat back on her calves and studied him like an impossible equation._

_ How?_

_ Her lips parted slightly as she waited for an answer to emerge._

_ His eyes narrowed at her, "Ya alright?"_

_ She blinked, confused by the question. He raised a finger, pointing at her chest. She looked down and gasped at the large, dark stain on her shirt…blood. Her hands went to her face and she could feel the spots where blood had dried and was beginning to crackle on her skin. The cold fingers of panic closed around her heart and she pulled the soiled shirt over her head, flinging it violently away. Sobbing, Carol crossed her arms over her chest; she clung to herself as her body convulsed with grief…with fatigue and unanswered questions._

_ Daryl stood and began walking towards her; goose bumps rose on her bare flesh._

_ Why am I here?_

_ She hugged herself tighter, nails biting into the freckled skin of her shoulder._

_ "Hey…" he dropped to a crouch in front of her._

_ She sniffed loudly as she lifted her head to look at him._

_ "What's wrong?"_

_ She frowned as the question hung in her mind, slowly rotating like a mobile over a baby's crib._

_ What's wrong? Everything… Sophia was right there…RIGHT THERE…in front of me…and then she wasn't…every part of me hurts! I'm covered in blood, topless, crying on this god damned roof; I don't know how I got here and the one thing…the only thing that might help is…_

_ The myriad of thoughts burned in her skull but try as she might, she could not voice them. Carol blinked away fresh tears and sucked her bottom lip. He stared at her, his blue eyes moving over her face, searching for an explanation. She wanted so badly to crush herself out of existence, to burst apart and let the broken pieces of her soul scatter in the wind._

_ The only thing that might help….is right in front of me…_

_ Something inside her gave way as she looked at him. A few shocks of dark hair hung in his eyes and sweat glistened on his brow…his arms…._

_ She wanted to scream…to push him away, but her arms were heavy. She clutched herself so tightly that her breasts hurt._

_ I don't know what to do..._

_A hot tear slid down her face and she could taste it between her lips._

_ Help me…please…_

_ She inched forward, her chest heaving. Daryl stiffened as he sunk to his knees._

_ "Carol…" He averted his eyes as she drew closer._

_ Please… The feeble request was locked behind her lips._

_ She was right in front of him now, every inch of exposed skin yearning for contact. Daryl tugged at his hair and closed his eyes. "I…we can't…" he breathed. But Carol scooted closer, her knees touching his._

_ You can…_

_ Her body was wedged between his legs and she took a deep breath, letting her hands fall to her sides.. Carol didn't have words to describe the thrill that went through her as she lowered her arms. She shuddered as her breasts were revealed, every scar, every freckle laid bare…_

_ He was paralyzed as she let her forehead rest against his chest._

_ Please…_

_ Her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling their bodies together. She sighed as she felt the muscles in his back tense beneath her fingers._

_ You're so close…_

_ She listened to the rapid beating of his heart as she leaned against him. Her breasts were pressed to the rough fabric of his shirt and she couldn't recall a time when she'd felt more vulnerable. One calloused hand came to rest on her spine, making her shiver. His fingertips traced the ridges in her back and she groaned softly into his clothes, savoring the feeling._

_ Don't stop…_

_Every nerve in Carol's body sparked to life as he tightened his grip on her. She stopped breathing when she felt a hand on her hip; his fingers splayed over the gentle curve… The feeling was incredible…safe, warm, close…maddening…. This simple touch was chasing every ache…every ounce of hurt from her limbs…from her entire being…. She swallowed, wanting more contact…his stomach flush against hers as she clung to him…her fingers lacing together at the small of his back…_

_God…_

_She released a sigh of contentment as she held him; his nails pricked at the skin on her hip when she nestled closer. With each breath, Carol could smell the sweat on their skin…sweat…and the familiar blend of smoke, grass and earth that hung on Daryl like a garment…that always seemed to linger in the air even after he'd gone… She let the scent overwhelm her…it filled her senses until she was dizzy. For a moment, they stayed like that…holding each other in perfect silence beneath a phantom moon. She could feel the smooth leather of his vest beneath her hands…his hard, lean body pressed to the softness of her chest._

_ Don't go…_

_ Even as the words emerged from the thick cloud surrounding her brain, she could feel the world tilting, taking them with it. _

_ Wait…_

_ She held on as the camper swayed, causing Daryl to tip backwards. Locked together, they seemed to fall in slow motion... the way she had when Daryl caught her… Carol buried her face in his shirt, ice water pooling in her stomach as they fell through the dark. In an instant, the cold, sick fear that had wormed its way into her heart disappeared, replaced by strange heat._

_ Carol blinked, her eyes adjusting to the brightness. _

_ Where?_

_ Suddenly, the question and its answer became irrelevant. All that mattered was the warmth…the excess… She splayed her fingers, lifting herself slightly and when she looked down….her eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp breath. _

_ Daryl…what?_

_ She saw his chest hair between her fingers and froze. He was staring up at her from a white bed and she became aware of a feather-light fabric on her skin… She tore her gaze from him long enough to look over shoulder; a stark white sheet was draped across her waist._

_ What?...What is…?_

_ But he moved beneath her and Carol's lips parted as she discovered the source of the heat… She was naked, lying between his legs, their smooth stomachs pressed together._

_ Oh my god…How?_

_ She swallowed, looking down between them. His legs were bent, secured on either side of her, holding her in place. She squinted, making out the faint trail of dark hair below his navel. Her pelvis was hovering over his and the knowledge struck her like a hard fist. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe but his hands were sliding down her back, pressure increasing as he moved lower, pressing her to him._

_ God…_

_ His grip was strong on her waist and she chewed her lower lip as she felt the friction between them. The tension left her body and she melted, her cheek resting over his heart. No space remained between them and she gasped when she felt his arousal just under her belly button. The sheet was cool and light on their hot skin and Carol wondered at it all. She forced herself to lie painfully still against him, afraid that any movement, even the slightest motion of her body or his might undo her….tear away the very last shred of control that she was clinging to so desperately._

_ Despite the open, airy room, Carol was suffocating. A sudden, stifling heat was coursing through her like the burn of alcohol… It blurred her vision, her thoughts… She worried that he…that they would both disappear…that this moment, this scene would implode and suck them into a vacuum…the sheets, the bed…everything would be snuffed into some strange blackness… as if it never existed…like a whisper in a dark room that no one hears…. _

_ Her train of thought was interrupted as she felt him shift beneath her. His hands ran up her sides, over her ribcage, pulling her… She was powerless in Daryl's grip and shuddered as her sweat-soaked skin slid smoothly over his until their faces were inches apart. He held Carol under her arms, his thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts. Her eyes were closed because she knew that if she opened them…if she looked at him..._

_ I…Can't…This is…._

_ But the sensation, the feeling of his thumbs touching her so lightly, those strong fingers digging into her shoulder blades…_

_ "Carol…" he said, his voice low._

_ The sound of her name…on his tongue… She took a deep breath and focused on the dusting of hair under her fingertips…_

_ "Carol," he repeated, softer this time...one thumb inching dangerously close to her nipple._

_ God…_

_ She wanted to curse, to cry. She didn't know what this was or why it was happening but he was so warm… Without warning, he sat up and her hands moved to his neck, fingers interlocking…keeping the two of them together. She felt the sheet slip past her waist and pulled him against her, covering exposed flesh. He sighed, lowering his head until he was resting in the crook of her neck. The scruff on his chin tickled the soft skin of her shoulder and she allowed herself to smile. His breaths were hot, making the hairs at the back of her neck stand up. Carol brought one hand to her mouth, slender fingers covering her lips to contain a happy sob. As she held onto him, realizations flickered brightly behind her eyes. He could help her…erase the pain or at least dull it…he could make her forget…Ed, the barn…the walkers….everything….if only for a night…an afternoon, an hour…Daryl could help her… He could draw cold sadness from her like a secret and replace it with the heat of an unexpected touch…the sound of his steady breathing and the smell of his skin, his hair…_

_ "Carol," he whispered against her ear. His hands were sliding down her sides, stopping at the small of her back._

_ "Stay," she begged, her voice soft, the word drifting through her lips like a ghost. "Please...just stay." _

_ He fell silent and Carol inhaled, filling her lungs with the scent she'd come to love…so familiar…a comfort…grass, smoke, dirt…but a small crease formed in her brow as something else invaded her senses, overpowering the other smells…_

_ Gasoline…_

_ She could taste it, bitter..sharp… Every muscle tensed as fear sunk painfully into her heart like a shard of glass._

_ No…NO! Please…not again…not now…_

_ She felt Daryl pull away to look at her but she refused to open her eyes…if she did…it would all be over…_

_ "Carol?" His voice seemed louder and Carol shook her head, not wanting to hear…_

_ No….._

She clenched her teeth as soreness slammed back into her body. Pain returned, raw…angry… She gasped and jerked wildly, straining a muscle in her neck. Her eyes flew open and she was breathing hard; the afternoon sun glared down from a pale blue sky.

"Hey…"

Startled, she looked up and found herself staring into two familiar, blue eyes.

"Daryl?" Her voice cracked.

"You okay?" He asked.

Carol dropped her gaze, realizing that her side was pressed against him; he had one arm draped protectively around her. She shifted slightly and lifted a hand to her cheek; she could feel the impressions in her skin from lying against his wrinkled shirt. As she looked around, dazed, she saw that his legs were spread, stretched in front of him and she'd ended up between them, curled into his chest; the bike was at his back, holding him up. She scrambled away from him awkwardly and tried to catch her breath. He crossed his stiff legs, elbows going to rest on his knees.

Carol's brain was still having trouble processing their location; beyond the bike she could see a road…pine trees… For an instant, she panicked…her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. She quickly looked down and let a heavy sigh of relief pass her lips…

_Clothes…_

She still wore the same filthy shirt, the large, dark stain conspicuous below the neckline. Carol sat in the dirt, across from Daryl and tried desperately to gather her thoughts.

"You okay?" He repeated, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Think so," she lied, rubbing her neck where she'd strained it. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours."

Carol nodded and brought her knees to her chest..

Daryl eyed her before refocusing on the grass; he tugged absently at the blades. "Nightmare?" he asked, his eyes darting back to her face.

"Hmm?" She didn't look up as she began to massage her aching legs.

He was quiet for a moment as he sucked his lower lip and pulled a fistful of grass from the ground. "You were makin' noise."

Carol's chest tightened and her hands paused over her shins; she stared at him, suddenly afraid. "Noise?"

Daryl shook the wet blades from his palm. "Moanin." A hint of color crept to his face. "Like maybe ya got hurt," he quickly added.

She swallowed hard. "Nightmare," she echoed, dropping her gaze.

"Started kinda quiet but when ya got louder…thought maybe I should wake ya."

"Walkers," Carol offered as a hasty explanation. "I was back on the farm…" Her toes dug into the dirt and she tried to count the cuts on her feet.

Daryl nodded as he peeled the stubborn blades form his hand. "Think we'll be havin' those dreams for a while."

"Yeah." She lowered her forehead to her knees and closed her eyes, somehow feeling more exhausted than before she'd fallen asleep. Carol reached up to touch her shoulder, the one where he'd been resting his chin just minutes…or what felt like minutes before… She frowned, missing the warmth of his breath…

_It was all a dream…_

She cursed silently into her knees.

Daryl turned his head and spat. He scratched behind one ear as his eyes lingered on Carol.

_Woman ain't even got shoes on._

He shook his head and snorted, trying to forget the sounds she'd made in her sleep… Small grunts, whimpers.. He'd watched the rapid movements of her eyes behind her lids and wondered what it was that she saw. At some point, her body had begun to shiver and twitch against him and he'd carefully wrapped an arm around her tiny frame, hoping she would be still…but she groaned the second he touched her, one small hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and stared hard at the ground. Something inside Daryl kept him from telling her what else he'd seen, heard….felt… Before she woke up, Carol had nuzzled into his chest, sighing as she did so. He looked down to find the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. He'd shifted uncomfortably, wishing there was more space between them. He felt strange, almost guilty for watching her…for listening. He'd been tempted to ease them apart, to let her lie on the ground but then a small word passed her lips… "Stay." He couldn't know to whom she spoke, or why, but Daryl decided to wait her out….quietly hoping that the sounds and little movements would stop.

"It wasn't real…" Carol muttered under her breath, "It wasn't." But her pulse quickened anyway as images from the dream flashed and moved behind her eyes. The shocking whiteness of the bed beneath them…the look on his face as he stared up at her…his hands exploring her body…

_Stop…don't. _ No good could come of replaying that scene…reliving it…But Carol couldn't hold in the sigh as she remembered his hardness pressing into her belly.

_God…_

She ran a hand through her short hair and wondered how she could get back to that room…that oasis in her mind. Fingernails grazed her scalp, pausing at her temple.

_Wait…_

Carol lifted her head, her eyes narrowing. The room, the heat...the sand…

_None of those things were real…_

But the roof was. There was a sudden twinge of pain between her eyes as her thoughts rushed back to the farm, to an itchy blanket and a quiet moment. Carol's head tilted to one side as she recalled the way she'd crawled to him, leaned over him…her lips hovering so close to his…

_ That was real._

She cast a nervous glance at Daryl.

_He was going to let me…wasn't he? Has he thought about it?_

Carol watched him tug at the grass and wondered if either of them would ever mention what happened on the roof…what _almost _happened. She hugged her knees, suddenly feeling ridiculous.

_We've lost our camp…our group, maybe forever… We have no idea whether or not the herd will head in this direction or where we'll go if it does… Our friends are dead for all we know and here you are, a sitting duck on the side of the road, letting yourself come undone because of a damn dream and wasting time wondering what that nonsense on the roof meant…if it meant anything. Nothing happened! _

Her own voice echoed harshly in her skull.

_Whatever that "moment" was on the roof…you need to forget it. You're going to drive yourself crazy._

"I know!" She hissed, her hand balling into a fist at her side.

Daryl looked up, "You say somethin'?"

"No," she answered, brushing dirt from her knees. "Just wondering what we're going to do."

He leaned back into the bike, one hand covering his eyes. He released a heavy sigh and pushed the hair from his brow, "Circle back."

Carol stared at him, "What?"

"Circle back, to the highway. If anybody else made it out, I'm thinkin' that's where they'll be."

Her heart surged with the incredible hope that others had survived. "You…you really think they got out?"

"Your scrawny ass did." He pushed himself off the ground and walked to her side. "C'mon," He offered her his hand and she grasped it, squeezing hard as she pulled herself up. Carol felt a soft smile spread across her face, despite the frustration, the pain in her limbs and a strong desire to lay on the cold grass until sleep could carry her back to the white room.

She stood, releasing his hand. "When should we go?"

He made his way to the bike and lifted the flap on the side bag. "Now okay with you?" He asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah." She walked towards him, rubbing her arms.

"Ya sure?"

Carol nodded.

"Alright then." He reached into the bag and pulled out a plastic bottle; it was filled with yellow liquid.

"Gas?" She stood beside him, her arms folded across her chest.

"Yup. Figured it might be worth my while to keep a little handy. I'm not tryin' to get stranded way the hell out here."

Carol looked left, then right, eyeing the long stretch of road. "How far will that get us?" She nodded to the bottle.

He reached past her, unscrewing the lid on the gas tank. "Well, between this," he shook the bottle, "And what we got left…should be enough to get us back to the highway. We can always look for more when we make it to the sign."

"Sign?" Carol asked softly, a crease forming in her brow.

Daryl stiffened as he poured the contents of the bottle into the tank. He replaced the lid and turned to face her. "The one we left…for.." He dropped his gaze, the name catching in his throat.

She chewed her lip and blinked at the sky. "It's okay," she said without looking at him.

Daryl lifted his head, "Hmm?"

"To say it…You can say her name."

He cleared his throat.

"I miss hearing it." She gave him a sad smile and wiped at her eyes.

His hands went to his hips and he kicked at the dirt, unsure of what to say or do.

Instead of waiting for an answer, Carol stepped closer to the bike, hefting the crossbow back onto her shoulder before swinging a leg over the seat; she sat with her hands on her thighs. Daryl followed suit, easing onto the seat in front of her. He gripped the handle bars and kicked the start lever. As the engine began to rumble beneath them, Carol scooted forward, her arms going around his middle. She leaned against his back and felt the smooth, warm leather pressed to her cheek. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent. "Thank you," she whispered, her fingers knotting together over his stomach.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder at her, "What?"

"For saving me." Her body relaxed against him.

The words were heavy, sinking slowly into his chest like stones in deep water. He craned his neck and saw her looking up at him from under her lashes. A small grunt escaped him as she continued to stare; her eyes were soft, clear, blue. Once again, Daryl found himself at a loss. For several heartbeats, he held the connection and wondered what he could possibly say…if he could say anything at all…

But Carol didn't seem to expect anything from him; she simply closed her eyes and let her cheek rest gently against his back. He turned away, his head hanging low with the weight of her words. Without thinking, Daryl released the left handlebar, his hand dropping to his thigh. He hesitated for a moment, fingers clawing at his jeans.

_What are ya doin'?_

He tensed as his hand moved to his stomach, hovering over the place where her fingers were locked around him. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he lowered his hand; he could feel her knuckles under his palm. Her grip seemed to tighten and Daryl heard a small sigh as his fingers covered hers. He took a breath and allowed his hand to linger for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips. The growl of the engine pulled him from his thoughts and he lifted his hand, returning it to the handlebar. the roar intensified as they pulled onto the road; they sped into the distance leaving the quiet place behind. Tall pines watched them go and all that remained of the two travelers were some tracks in the dirt and a quickly browning apple core.

T-Dog slowed to a stop as he reached the pileup. He glanced to the left and saw the truck that he and Shane had found; He remembered laughing as they opened the water jugs inside and let the cool liquid pour over their heads and down their backs. "Should be right up here somewhere," he said to Andrea.

She leaned forward in her seat, straining to see through the grimy windsheild.

"Let's check it out. See what we can find." He grunted and pushed his door open.

Andrea hopped out of the truck and stretched.

Glenn had pulled up behind them; his chest tightened as he took in the familiar scene. Herschel looked over at him, noting the way the color had drained from the young man's face. "You alright?" He asked.

Glenn's eyes darted from one car to the next, searching for any sign of movement. "This place is a graveyard," he said solemnly. "It's the last place we saw Sophia." His voice dropped to a whisper.

Herschel nodded. "Do you think it's safe to get out?"

"If we stick close to the cars and stay together." Glenn looked back, eyeing each of the three women. "You can stay here if you want; I'm going to look around…talk to the others."

"We'll come with you," said Maggie, her hand already closing around the door handle.

Patricia rubbed Beth's arm, "Did you wanna get out honey?"

The girl answered with a weak nod and slid out after her sister.

Glenn slammed the door shut behind him and saw Shane climb down from the truck bed. The big man held out a hand as Lori hitched a leg over the side; he helped her to the ground; Rick and Carl followed.

"I can't believe we're all here," said Glenn as he pulled off his cap and rubbed his brow."

"We're not." Rick frowned, "Still don't know where Carol and Daryl are…if they made it out."

"If they did," added Herschel, "Would they know to come here?"

"I don't know." The deputy ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. "Just figured it was our best option. Your people make it out alright?"

Herschel stared at the ground, his hands plunged deep into his pockets. "Not all of us." He sighed heavily. "We lost Jimmy."

Rick's expression was pained as he studied the older man. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"He saved my daughter." Herschel looked over his shoulder at Beth who still clung to her sister. The girl's eyes were red, swollen…her face clammy and white; she seemed likely to collapse at any moment and Rick suspected that Maggie's arms were the only things holding her up.

Lori pulled Carl to her side and he leaned against her, eyes vacant.

The farmer stepped forward, reaching out to grasp Rick's shoulder. He leaned in, dropping his voice, "They tore him apart…Right in front of her…"

Rick hung his head, "I'm sorry." He whispered.

Herschel gave a stiff nod before turning back to his daughters.

T-Dog and Andrea had made their way towards the others; Shane, Lori and Carl moved closer and the survivors huddled together, forming a circle. Rick's hands were clasped behind his head as he took deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. They stared at each other in silence, tired eyes softening as they realized how fortunate they'd been. Glenn cleared his throat, arms folded across his chest. "We have the guns."

Shane looked up, "What?" His eyes narrowed.

"The guns," Glenn repeated, looking at each of them in turn, "I grabbed the bag before we left; it's in the car."

"Jesus." Shane passed a hand over his face; his lips were parted in disbelief. "Man, that's the best thing I've heard all damn mornin'."

A faint smile tugged at Andrea's lips, "I'm glad you're okay."

Glenn shifted from one foot to the other as he stared at his sneakers, "You too."

"At least we ain't sittin' ducks out here," said T-Dog as he scanned the road, searching for stray walkers.

"No, but we're pretty close to it; we can't stay here." Rick gestured outwards at the abandoned cars.

"What are you thinking?" Lori asked as she brushed a strand of dark hair form her face.

Rick was slowly pacing in the center of the circle. "Look around, see what supplies we can find."

"What about Daryl and Carol?" asked Glenn.

"We can wait a while, but I don't want us to be here when night falls." The deputy glanced at his wife and son.

"Alright then," said Shane. "Ya'll heard him. Look for gas, water, weapons…anything that might be useful."

"Stay close," Rick added, "And keep your eyes open."

The survivors eyed each other once more before breaking the circle.

The sun crept across the sky as Rick stood on the roof of the truck, keeping watch. He brought a hand up, shielding his eyes from the rays. A sudden _thunk _startled him and he looked down to see his son dropping several large cans into the truck bed. "Find somethin'?" The deputy called.

Carl tipped the Stetson back and squinted up at his father, "Green beans and peaches; mom was pretty excited."

"That's good; we'll need those." Rick nodded.

Carl lingered by the tailgate, his fingers curling nervously around the edge.

"Hey," said Rick, noting the gloomy look on his son's face.

"Yeah?" Carl kicked absently at the ground, scraping the toe of his boot on the asphalt.

"They're gonna find us."

The boy studied his father for a moment then walked away.

Rick dropped to a crouch and wiped the sweat from his upper lip. He watched as Carl stepped carefully over debris, making his way back to the others. The deputy closed his eyes and scratched the stubble on his cheek. "Come on," he whispered, "Where are you?" As the afternoon sun beat down on his back, Rick Grimes was tempted to pray; to call on God and ask him to lead Daryl and Carol safely to the highway. But something stopped him. He opened his eyes and looked around at all the empty cars… There were people in those cars…men, women…babies… Rick frowned, his jaw clenching.

_Where are they now?_

He knew. They were dead…ripped to pieces or stumbling mindlessly after their next meals. He wasn't sure which was worse… No; he wasn't going to pray. He saw no evidence of god among the rusting vehicles, their windshields spattered with gore…some with stiff and wasted corpses still strapped in their seats. No; they were on their own.

Andrea and Lori sat on the ground, an open suit case between them. "What about this?" The blonde woman asked, holding up a denim jacket. "Think it'll fit Carl?"

Lori took the jacket and held it to her chest. "Yeah, at least for a little while. Seems like he's growing faster every day."

Andrea continued to rifle through the contents of the luggage. "I remember when Amy was like that. I went away to college and when I came home after that first year she'd shot up like a weed."

"They tend to do that," Lori sighed, folding the jacket. "Grow up when you're not looking."

The two women smiled at each other and Lori laid the jacket on their growing pile. They bent over the suitcase, searching for warmer, winter clothes. Andrea pulled out a gray sweater that looked to be about her size. The fabric was soft and she rubbed it between her thumbs, silently wondering if any of them would last until winter. The somber thoughts vanished as she and Lori lifted their heads, brows knitting together as a distant sound reached them. Andrea's eyes narrowed as she looked at Lori; "What is that?"

"I don't know." Lori said as she stood up slowly, one hand rising to block the sun. "Rick!" She called out, waving to her husband. "Can you see anything?" The noise was getting louder and the others were making their way back to the truck. Rick was on his feet in an instant, eyes darting left and right as he searched for the source of the sound. He blinked as he brought his hands to his head, nails grazing his scalp.

_Can't be…_

Carl clambered onto the roof and stood beside his father. The loud sputtering was unmistakable now. The boy's eyes widened when he saw the motorcycle…complete with two riders… "It's them…" he breathed.

Rick could only watch in stunned silence as the bike approached.

"Dad; it's them!" Carl tugged at his father's shirt before hopping down.

"Rick!" Lori called again.

He turned to look at her. When she saw his face, Lori sucked in a sharp breath and covered her mouth. "Oh my god…" she whispered through her fingers.

"What?" Andrea asked. "You think it's them?"

"Gotta be. Ain't nobody else ridin' around on a loud-ass bike in the middle of the damn apocalypse," said T-Dog as he walked over, standing between the two women.

"Oh my god…" Lori repeated as the three of them ran ahead to see for themselves.

Glenn and Maggie slid off the hood of the Buick. Herschel and Patricia hung back to keep watch over Beth; the pale girl was sleeping lightly in the backseat, limbs twitching and jerking as she ran from the phantoms in her head.

Rick sunk to his knees as he watched the bike slow to a stop.

_How?_

Carol's lips parted as she caught sight of the man on the truck.

_ Rick?_

Daryl could feel the pounding of her heart against his back; he pulled to a stop and let the engine die. Before he could even relax his grip on the handles, Carol's arms fell from his waist and she eased off the seat. She paused to glance back at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Daryl stood, swinging his leg over the seat but she didn't wait. He looked up to see her running on shaky legs towards the pickup.

Carol stumbled over scattered debris, nearly falling, as she hurried to reach the familiar blue truck. The asphalt burned her feet and each breath was a struggle but none of that mattered as Carl crashed into her, the Stetson falling to the ground as his arms circled her waist. Carol stopped, one hand pressed flush against the boy's back, hugging him to her, and the other in his hair, stroking the dark locks. She squeezed her eyes shut as they held each other and a lone tear rolled down her wind burnt cheek. "Are you okay?" She asked, her voice strained.

Carl looked up at her, nodding. "We saw you, when we left our tent," he sniffed. "We thought…" he lowered his chin, his forehead resting on her stomach.

"I know." She hugged him tighter.

"My god…Carol.." Lori threw her arms around Carol's neck and the three of them stood, shaking in the middle of the road.

Carl backed away, bending to grab the Stetson as he wiped his nose.

"I can't believe you're all here," Carol whispered into Lori's hair as she looked around at the friendly faces surrounding them. She ran her hands up and down the younger woman's arms.

"I'm sorry," Lori choked out as she pulled back, forcing herself to meet Carol's gaze.

"For what?"

"That we couldn't help you…back at camp," she sniffed loudly.

Carol reached out, gently touching Lori's face. "There was nothing you could've done…they were everywhere; you had to keep Carl safe."

Lori nodded, clearing her throat. "How did you get out?"

Fresh tears welled in Carol's eyes as she looked over her shoulder. "Daryl," she sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "He saved me."

Lori followed her gaze and saw the hunter making his way towards them.

"Thank god." Lori hugged her friend tightly before stepping away to dry her eyes.

Carol tried to blink away the tears as she reached out for Andrea, "You made it," she breathed, her chin resting on the blonde woman's shoulder.

"Barely," said Andrea, a small laugh bubbling up from her chest. Joyful tears shone in her green eyes.

When the younger woman finally let go, Carol felt weak, overwhelmed by the presence of her friends…her _family_. She placed a hand on her forehead and attempted to take it all in. She smiled, looking at each of them.

"Hey," Glenn said, stepping forward.

Carol lifted her head, "Hey."

He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes focused on the ground. "Before we left," he reached around to his back pocket, "I grabbed this…thought you might want it." Glenn extended his arm, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.

Carol studied him as she accepted the item.

_Not paper..a picture…_

She unfolded it carefully, one hand flying to her mouth as she realized what it was. She held, in her shaking hand, an old picture of Sophia…the same one she'd taped to the wall above her mattress in the RV.

_ How could I forget this…?_

Her lips trembled and wave of gratitude washed over her as she looked up to see Glenn shuffling awkwardly, hands thrust into his pockets. She closed the gap between them, crushing his body to hers. He hesitantly placed one hand at the small of her back and let her cry into his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered against his ear. He rubbed her back gently in response.

"Man, it's good to see you," said T-Dog as Daryl approached the group. He gave the hunter a strong clap on the back.

"Ya'll alright?" Daryl asked, looking around.

"Good as we can be; how 'bout you?"

The question startled Daryl, "Fine, just glad I had enough gas to get back here." His eyes were on Glenn and Carol.

Rick landed with a thud as he jumped down from the roof. He stood next to Daryl and tried to choose his words carefully. "Thank you," he said.

The hunter grunted without looking at him.

Rick leaned closer, "Thank you for gettin' her back safe."

Daryl tore his eyes from Glenn and Carol; his brow furrowed as he studied the honest face of the deputy.

"It's good to have you back," Rick placed a strong hand on his shoulder, "_Both_ of you." His hand fell away as he left Daryl's side. Rick followed T-Dog and the two of them smiled at Carol, welcoming her.

Daryl leaned against the side of the truck, his arms folded across his chest. He watched the others surround Carol; cheeks were kissed and fingers intertwined as she embraced each of them in turn. Daryl lowered his gaze, leaving her to her reunion. He stared down at the blacktop, squinting as it glittered at him in the afternoon light. His fingers dug into his sides as he remembered the way she'd looked in the field…her skin so pale in the moonlight and flecked with blood… blue eyes burning through the dark as she stood tall, one of his arrows clutched tightly in her small hand…. Sighing, he lifted his head and let it fall back against the truck. When he opened his eyes, Daryl froze, each muscle tensing. Carol was staring at him. She smiled and nodded as the others spoke to her but in the midst of it all she seemed to stand alone in the crowd, calling to him, reaching out with her eyes.

Daryl stared back, unable to break the strange connection they shared. He chewed his lower lip, powerless, lost… The others carried on, overwhelmed, overjoyed, while the brooding hunter stood alone, struggling to understand….to put a name to the feelings that had begun to rage in his head, his chest, his stomach…clawing, tearing, warring with one another like animals…when she looked at him.

_Carol._

__**I hope you all enjoyed! This was my first time writing a dream sequence! Let me know what you think : )**

**-Sami**


	15. Lost

**Hello again! I hope you all enjoyed the reunion; it was a little tricky to get started on this chapter because as we all know, there's a nice little eight month time-jump from here to the prison! So really….things are wide open…the survivors could go anywhere from here…..**_**hmmm**_**. This is **_**my**_** take on what happened after the highway reunion so let me know what you think : ) As always, thank you for reading and for your words of encouragement!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead…If I did it would be on HBO…not AMC ; )**

**Chapter 15: Lost**

Carol's mind was reeling as she stood, surrounded by her friends…her fellow survivors… She was vaguely aware of someone's warm hands closing around her own… Voices leaving kind words in her ears…but it all seemed to be blurring together, fading and crackling like white noise. What mattered…what _really_ mattered were the two blue eyes she found herself staring into…. They were vivid…real…

_ This is real…We made it…_

Sharp, gray-blue, looking…cutting into her…wonderfully, painfully real. Carol chewed her lower lip as she realized that he was the reason…the _only_ reason they'd made it out alive…the only reason they were standing here. She held his gaze, desperately wanting him to know how thankful she was.

_It was you. You got us out…You brought us back…_

All she could do was stare in reverence and hope that he saw the thoughts reflected in her eyes.

_You saved us._

He reached up to rub the back of his neck, but didn't look away. Carol shuddered slightly as they held the silent connection. When his eyes were on her she felt weak, trapped, naked…As if he could see into her mind and study her memories like old photographs… She clutched the cross at her neck and felt a bead of sweat slip down between her breasts.

_He can't see it…not that._

Her cheeks grew warm as she remembered the white room.

"Carol?"

"Hmm?" She blinked, turning suddenly to face her questioner; the sheets and skin vanished from her thoughts.

"I asked if you were thirsty," said Lori.

"Oh…yes. Some water would be great." Carol cleared her throat and smiled.

"Come on," Lori beckoned, "They've got a few bottles in the Buick."

Carol moved to follow her.

"Oh god; Carol…"

"What? What's wrong?" She tugged harder at the cross.

"Your feet!" Lori's brow furrowed as she stared at the cuts. "What happened to your shoes?"

Carol curled her toes nervously, the ends of her nails scraping against the asphalt. "The herd; it all happened so fast I didn't have time…didn't think to…"

"Glenn grabbed your bag from the RV; we should see if your shoes are in there."

"Sure." Carol nodded and the two women continued to make their way towards the Buick.

"If not, I think we'll be able to find you some." She took Carol gently by the arm, leading her away.

As they approached the car, Carol cast a glance over her shoulder at Daryl. She caught his eyes and wished for a moment that they could go back…back to the quiet stretch of road that had seemed like their own world, a brief respite from all of this…no cars, no walkers…just her and him.

Lori released Carol's arm as they stood beside the Buick. "Should be a few in here somewhere…" she mumbled to herself and pulled the door open slowly, trying not to disturb the sleeping girl in the backseat.

Once again, Carol was forced to look away; she sighed, refocusing on Lori.

"Here." The younger woman held up a bottle.

"Thanks." Carol took it and quickly unscrewed the cap. She lifted the bottle, letting the cool water pass her lips. As she turned to head back to the truck, something made her pause. "Can I get another one? For Daryl?"

Lori eyed her for a moment, "Of course." She bent down, rummaging through Maggie's backpack; she withdrew another bottle and handed it to her friend.

Carol accepted with a weak smile. The two women exchanged a look until color rose to Carol's cheeks, causing her to drop her gaze. She masked her discomfort with a small cough and walked away, leaving Lori confused by the Buick.

Daryl scratched at the scruff on his chin, his eyes narrowing as Carol came towards him with a bottle in her hand. "Thought you might be thirsty," she said, offering him the water, her eyes were on the ground.

"Thanks," he muttered without looking at her.

She nodded and took her place beside him, leaning against the truck. "Where do you think we'll go from here?" She asked before lifting the bottle to her lips.

"Don't know." He tossed the cap away. "Guess we gotta hear what Rick has to say." He tilted his head back and took a long drink. "I'm bettin' he doesn't wanna spend the night here."

Carol looked out at the wreckage…rusted cars, their contents spread all over the road…tattered clothing, books, luggage…toys… Her chest tightened. "I'll be back."

"Hm?" He took another sip of water and watched as she began walking away.

She stopped to look back at him, "I'm not going far…I…just need a minute."

Daryl wiped his mouth in response.

Carol stepped carefully over broken CD's and shredded tires as she made her way down the road. Her body tensed as she passed a car; the passenger-side door was thrown open and she could see someone…_something_ in the seat… She took a hasty step back, fearing a walker, but the corpse did not move. She couldn't tell if it had been a man or a woman…young or old… Several flies crawled over its ruined face and a skeletal arm hung limply at its side. Carol covered her nose as the smell of stale corruption reached her. She squinted and saw that an ugly stain had spread over the headrest, a dark halo behind the corpse's head.

_At least you didn't have to live through this._

She lowered her gaze and moved on; flies buzzed in and out of the thing's open mouth; dark, empty sockets watched her go. A cell phone went skidding across the asphalt when Carol bumped it with her toe; she stared down at the cracked screen and sighed, remembering how simple it used to be…to reach out… Her steps slowed as she reached her destination; when she looked up, she was standing before a red SUV.

_Oh…god…_

Carol's hands rose slowly to her mouth as she stared at the familiar vehicle. It appeared to be untouched; a box of crackers, faded by the sun, and a jar of peanut butter sat on the hood where she'd left them…nearly a month ago… She forced herself to take a step closer; she reached out, her fingers hovering over the red lid of the peanut butter jar but she couldn't bring herself to touch it… She pulled back, the shaking hand returning to her mouth. There were smudged, blurry words on the windshield: _Sophia, wait here. We will come every day._

Carol's eyes squeezed shut as her chest tightened.

_We were going to find you…meet you here…_

A silent sob was forming behind her lips.

_You were supposed to come back here…_

She sunk slowly to her knees, tiny bits of black gravel pressing painfully into her skin.

_Why didn't you come back? We were here…we waited…we looked for you…_

Hot tears were seeping out beneath her lashes, stinging her wind burnt cheeks. She sniffed loudly, suddenly suffocating.

_I was right here! But I couldn't help you…_

She slammed a small fist onto the asphalt as her body convulsed with grief and anger. Sniffing, gasping, Carol laid down on her stomach; she reached out, her hands feeling the cool space beneath the SUV where she and Lori had lain in fear as the walkers surrounded them…

_I was right here…_

Her fingers splayed, moving carefully over the rough surface of the road. She remembered cowering under the vehicle, Lori's hand clamped over her mouth… Her body had trembled as she stared at Sophia; the girl was hidden beneath a nearby car and walkers were stumbling past.

_Baby…_

Another tear slid down Carol's face and her eyes were raw, sore from crying.

_I thought we would be okay…_

She felt her heart breaking as she remembered the fear in her daughter's eyes…just before they were separated. Carol clenched her teeth as she rolled onto her side.

_I didn't think you would run…that you'd go…._

Her body curled and she lay on the ground, in the fetal position, hugging her knees and trying desperately to keep herself from falling apart. With her cheek pressed to the blacktop, Carol mourned. Her narrow shoulders shook as she cried for the daughter she couldn't save.

_Sophia…I thought…._

The creases at the corners of her eyes stung and her entire body seemed to ache with loss….the memory of loss…

_I thought I would see you again…_

What little strength remained was draining out of her with her tears as she lay helpless on the ground. She tried to contain her growing sobs, not wanting anyone to hear…not wanting anyone to intrude on this moment of awful, ugly grief…It felt as if strong fingers were curling under her ribs, gripping hard, pulling until they snapped the bones, splitting her apart…as if her chest was being cracked open and the soft contents torn out violently…leaving an empty cavern, broken…bloody…like she'd become some useless piece of human wreckage…her own remains….

_No one can fix it…no one can change it…_

One hand lay flat against her chest, fingertips pressing into her skin, searching for the gaping hole that she knew must be there…She couldn't hear the approaching footsteps as she gasped and struggled for air between sobs, her thin frame shaking with each labored breath.

Daryl stopped when he saw her, one hand going to his brow. He rubbed his face in exasperation and turned to leave. With his back to the grieving woman, Daryl sighed, his eyes on the ground.

_Can't fuckin' do this._

He didn't want to look at her…at the writing on that windshield…the unopened box of crackers he'd placed on the hood what seemed like so long ago… The hunter frowned, remembering Jim, Amy, Jackie, Dale…Merle… The body count kept rising and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it…

_Just the way things are now…dyin'….that's just part of it…._

His hands balled into fists at his sides as he tried to convince himself that losing Sophia wasn't different.

_Girl wasn't my problem…_

He took another step and stopped.

_Why couldn't ya just find her? 'Fore she turned into one of those things? _

His fingers were in his hair, tugging angrily as he questioned himself.

_Ya coulda found her…but ya let her end up in that goddamn barn…A walker…_

He pulled harder, his face twisted in a silent snarl…blunt nails bit into his scalp. It _was_ different…it was Sophia. Daryl closed his eyes, his skull pounding as he realized that nothing…not the CDC…not Dale…the herd…not even finding Merle's bloody hand on that roof would ever compare to watching Sophia stumble out of that barn…Nothing would ever be as terrible as the looks on their faces…on Carol's…as Rick put a bullet in that little girl's brain. The way Carol had gone slack in his arms…all the life going out of her in an instant…as if she were the one who'd been shot…. Nothing would ever be that hard…

His knuckles were turning white as he clutched fistfuls of his own hair.

_She's got every right to be grievin'…cryin'….Leave her be. _

But he couldn't. Every whimper, sigh…every sad little sound that escaped her stabbed at him like a cold needle and he hated it…hated all of this. He kicked at the ground, wanting nothing more than to leave this place…to never see any of these damn cars again. Muttering curses under his breath, Daryl turned and walked towards her. There was a crunching sound as he stepped on a small picture frame and he froze, thinking she'd heard him, but Carol was lost in her grief. He took a breath and dropped to a crouch behind her, his hand going to her shoulder.

Carol jerked at the contact, her head snapping up. Her brows knit together as she studied the man at her side. He didn't say anything and his eyes were averted but his warm, rough hand lingered on her shoulder. She wiped her nose and stared at him, wondering if she should speak. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and withdrew his hand. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

"I just…I needed to see it," she tried to explain.

He nodded, his eyes on the ground.

Stubborn tears continued to trickle down her face. "I can't believe that this…" she sniffed, "that this is the last place I…" the words caught in her throat.

Daryl forced himself to look at her; they locked eyes and he knew that she could see the ugly blend of guilt, hurt and anger that they shared…that they suffered with like a virus….the feelings changing, mutating over time in his mind…in hers…

It seemed to be enough for Carol…knowing that someone else was nursing the same ragged wound. They'd all been there…Andrea, T-Dog, Dale, Lori…even Carl…All of them had seen it happen but somehow…she knew that it resonated with him, that it meant more to him. She wasn't sure why…but it did…or he wouldn't be with her now…sitting in front of the same damn cars where it all started. He didn't have any words of comfort to offer, no answers or insights, only his presence. Carol sighed, fighting the urge to touch him, to reach out and feel the one person who might actually understand…who carried this loss with him, the way she did…like a talisman…like a coin in his pocket that he might reach in and clasp anytime, the coldness all too real in his palm. Loss is never far from the heart, the mind…

She warred with herself, wanting to stay on the warm ground, feeling…remembering those final frantic moments she'd shared with her daughter but another part of her wanted to leave…to rise and walk away…to take the hand of the man in front of her and let him pull her out of this…

_What do I do?_

Carol's chin quivered as she turned and looked back at the place beneath the car where Sophia had hidden…where her small heart must have pounded against the asphalt…

_I couldn't help you…_

Transfixed, hypnotized by the memory of her daughter which seemed to hover in excruciating detail and clarity before her cloudy eyes, Carol moved to crawl towards the car but something stopped her…a gentle pressure…

Daryl's fingers had curled around her upper arm; she looked at them, confused.

"Don't," he said, his voice low.

"But…" she whispered.

"Don't." He tugged at her arm but she wouldn't move. "C'mon."

She looked from him to the car, teeth sinking into her lower lip; she needed to take it in…to see, feel this place…one last time. Carol took a deep breath and stared into his eyes, "Come with me; please." The words were small, soft, falling from her mouth like the petals of a fading flower.

Daryl hung his head, his hand falling from her arm.

"Please," she said again, her blue eyes pleading.

Without a word, the hunter stood.

Carol watched him in awe, a crease forming in her brow. He held out his hand and she continued to stare at him as she took it. His fingers closed around hers as he helped her up. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and tried to slow her breathing. He chewed his lip and nodded in the direction of the car. Together, they walked in silence, their fingers untangling.

She eyed him nervously as they stood in front of the familiar vehicle. He cast a sideways glance at her and nodded. She swallowed hard as she sank to the ground; Daryl took his place beside her, each of them kneeling. Neither spoke as Carol reached out and touched the cool place beneath the car, her pale hand immersed in shadow. She splayed her fingers over the rough texture of the road, hoping to feel vibration…some lingering pulse of life. Fingertips, like antennae, explored every crack and crevice in the asphalt, seeking out the memory of life. Carol shuddered as she recalled Sophia's face, her tender cheek pressed to the ground as she hid…the look in her eyes as she stared at her mother…wanting help…pleading quietly for it… Another sob wracked her body as the image overwhelmed her.

Daryl took a breath and reached under the car, his palm flat on the cool ground. Carol turned to look at him through her tears. His mouth was a hard line and his eyes were closed. Her lips parted as she realized that he could feel it too.

_She was here…You can feel it…feel her…._

She stared at him, amazed, grateful for this partner in grief. She was silent, giving him a moment to feel and to mourn. His shoulders slump as he sighed and they knelt together, remembering. Carol pulled her hand from the shadows and let it rest on her thigh; her fingers threaded together as if she might pray but she refrained, knowing that there was nothing more she could ask of God. Daryl was here, helping her to roll the great stone of loss up a steep hill…even if he didn't know it.

Warm wind whipped past them, interrupting the stillness. Carol watched as the scattered pages of a child's coloring book fluttered over the asphalt, torn edges scraping against the rough road. She let the wind steal a breath from her lips. Tears dried on her face and everything inside her seemed to soften as she felt the warm breeze move past them; it carried the memory of her daughter lightly away…like a scent…soft…like a lost feather from an empty nest.

_ You're not here…_

She looked up at the sky, as if she would find Sophia there, staring back at her.

_Wherever you are…it's someplace better…better than here…than this…_

Carol wrung her hands, somehow knowing that she would never come back here. Daryl's eyes eased open, his hand sliding out from beneath the car. "You good?" He asked; his voice so low she scarcely heard him.

She blinked, forcing the last of the moisture from her eyes. "I will be."

He bit the inside of his cheek, looking from her to the ground. "Oughta get back…see if Rick 'n them got a plan worked out yet."

Carol nodded as she rose; her knees were peppered with tiny, red impressions from the asphalt. Daryl stood, one hand moving to rub his aching back. "Lord," he muttered as they made their way back to the group.

She glanced at him, "What?"

"I'm startin' to think this damn day just won't end." He continued to rub at the sore spot on his lower back.

Carol felt a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

_He's trying._

This was Daryl's version of conversation, or as close as they tended to get to it. She knew there was nothing either of them could say about the moment of mourning they'd just shared…no profound statements or bible verses they could draw on to make it easier; it was hard. Death is hard. All they could do was hold onto the loss and carry it with them as they sought out their own reasons to live. Carol scratched at the dry blood on her cheek.

_Just keep moving…keep talking…_

Desperate to fill the silence, Daryl kicked at a pair of sunglasses, making them skitter across the road.

Carol stepped over a small suitcase as she walked beside him. "I'm tired."

He looked at her and snorted. "Tired?"

She nodded, hugging herself.

"After that little nap on the side of the damn road? And ain't like ya been drivin'…" His hands were in his pockets now.

Carol tried to hide the smile that was creeping across her face; she didn't know what this was…all she knew was that she needed more words, and she thought maybe he did too.

_Keep talking_.

"That's my ass been doin' all the work. Keepin' watch while ya check out for a few hours…drivin' us all over creation…Lord."

She bit back a laugh, "No one made you."

Daryl fell silent and frowned, one hand balling into a fist in his pocket.

Carol's smile faded and she worried that she'd said the wrong thing. She chewed her lip and waited for a response.

_Please; please…just keep talking._

"Like I was gonna leave your ass behind and show up without ya... Sheriff over there never woulda let me hear the end of it."

She covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. She wasn't sure whether it was the look of false anger on his face, exhaustion, or just the absurdity of the whole situation that struck her as funny but Carol wanted so badly to let laughter spill from her lips.

He glanced sideways at her, his eyes narrowing. "Ya _laughin_'?"

Carol shook her head.

"The hell ya got to be laughin' 'bout?" He huffed.

"I don't know." Her hands went to her knees and she stopped, allowing the confused laughter to bubble up from her chest. She stared down at her dirty toes, "I don't even have shoes on!" She gasped between laughs.

Daryl rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his face. "Christ Carol…think ya 'bout lost it. Been out in the sun too long."

All she could do was nod as the laughter continued to spill from her. She held up a hand, letting him know that she needed a minute.

_God…what am I doing? Why am I talking about shoes…hell, maybe he's right and we've finally reached a day that won't end and we'll just have to keep walking in circles on this highway, making awkward conversation until we're dead._

The sheer ridiculousness of it all was overwhelming and Carol was struggling to catch her breath as more laughter tumbled from her. "I'm sorry," she managed, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. "It's just…all of this," she gestured outward with her hand, locking a laugh behind her lips.

Daryl wiped the sweat from his upper lip and scratched the back of his head. "I know," he sighed. "Fuckin' traffic."

Her brows knit together as she looked up at him. "What?"

"All these damn cars…ya think what with the world endin' there'd be less traffic but good Lord if every car in Georgia ain't sittin' on this highway. How we gonna drive through this? It's bullshit."

_Traffic? He's talking about…traffic…?_

The thought was enough to send Carol into another fit of laughter.

"Would you quit?" He snapped.

She stood up straight, one hand covering her mouth, the other resting at her hip. Her body shook as she attempted to contain the laughs building in her chest.

"Think Herschel oughta look at ya."

She shook her head, "No…I'm fine…it's just…" She took a breath, calming herself, "You're right; it's bullshit."

Daryl spat and they continued walking towards the pickup. The laughter died down but Carol still wore a smile on her face as they clambered over small piles of debris.

"Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that brain of yours," Daryl grunted as he kicked an old laptop aside.

Carol was quiet as she contemplated a response. Her pulse quickened and she found herself remembering the white room…with its soft clean sheets and all that warmth coursing through her…

"Don't worry about it." She smiled.

"Lord," Daryl muttered as he ran a hand through his hair.

Andrea was moving towards them, a look of concern on her face. She stopped when she reached them, her eyes going from Daryl to Carol.

"Hey; we wondered where you went…everything okay?" She grabbed Carol's shoulder.

"Yeah; I was just…I was looking for something. What's the news? Do you know where we're headed yet?"

Andrea walked with them. "There's been some debate."

"Debate?" Daryl eyed her.

"Between Rick and Shane."

Daryl snorted, "Figures."

"What are they saying?" asked Carol.

"Shane still seems to think we have a shot at Ft. Benning; Rick disagrees."

"Didn't the herd come from that direction?" Daryl asked as he studied the blonde woman.

Andrea nodded.

"So where does Rick think we should go?" Carol winced as she stepped on a small rock.

"Someplace small, secluded."

"Makes sense," said Daryl. "Place like Benning…tons of people…"

"Tons of walkers." Carol finished the thought.

Andrea sighed, "I don't know about you two but I don't think we're just going to stumble onto something like the Greene Farm."

"We don't need to," said Daryl.

The women looked at him.

"The farm was out in the open, low fences…too easy for geeks to find it. We oughta be lookin' for somethin' smaller, maybe in the woods a ways…harder for 'em to get to."

"There's gotta be a place," Carol whispered as she hugged herself tighter.

"We might not find it right away," said Andrea as she wiped the sweat form her brow.

"Might not," Daryl echoed as he brought his thumb to his lips and chewed the nail.

The strange giddiness left Carol as she began to consider a life on the road…on the run. "The baby…" she said under her breath.

"Hm?" Andrea tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Lori; we need to find a place…somewhere we can stay, for Lori and the baby."

"Least we got some time 'fore that happens." Daryl spat out the tip of his nail.

"But if we're on the road…the stress…she could lose the baby." Carol's eyes were vacant as she stared past her friends into an uncertain future.

Andrea took her hand and squeezed, "We'll find something; it'll be okay." She rubbed Carol's knuckles as they reached the pickup. "Let's see if anything's been set in stone."

Glenn and Maggie looked up as the trio approached. "Hey," Glenn called.

Carol looked up.

"Here." He ran over and thrust a bag into her arms.

Her lips parted as she stared down at her worn canvas bag; the one that contained all the worldly possessions that remained to her.

"There's sneakers in there," he said as he fiddled with the bill of his baseball cap. "Please," he put his hands on her shoulders, "Put them on."

Carol gave him a weak smile.

_Since when is everyone so concerned about my feet…?_

She placed a hand on his cheek, "Thank you."

Glenn nodded curtly and turned back towards the group.

Daryl cleared his throat and took a step closer to Carol; he nudged her with his shoulder, "Whatya make of that?"

She followed his gaze to the two men standing in front of the pickup. Rick's hands were clasped behind his head as he listened to his partner. Shane had begun to pace.

"It makes me nervous when they get like this," she whispered.

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest and leaned down, speaking into her ear, "All I know is they best work this shit out. Ain't got but so much daylight left."

The tiny hairs on the back of Carol's neck stood up as she felt his warm breath on her ear. She rolled her shoulders and watched the two men.

"Man we don't know," said Shane, his eyes darting left and right as he paced.

"Shane," Rick sighed, "The walkers were comin; from that direction."

"Don't mean they came from Benning," Shane snapped.

"You willin' to take that chance?"

"Yeah man."

Rick squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation. "Suppose we head that way, come across another herd…what then? We don't have the ammo to deal with that."

Shane rolled his eyes. "I'm guessin' Benning's gotta be pretty well stocked."

"That only helps us if we _get there_…" Rick stressed, one hand darting out in anger.

"You so convinced we can't?" Shane glared at his partner.

"Yes!" Rick hissed through clenched teeth. "We barely made it off the farm." He took a moment to look around at the others. They stared back at him, expectant.

Shane licked his lips, "Then what man? You think we got a better chance on the road?"

Rick took a step back, one hand still tugging at his hair; he frowned, his eyes resting on Daryl. He motioned for the hunter to join them.

Daryl looked down at Carol and she gave him a small nod. "Go," she whispered. He moved stiffly towards the pickup.

"That's just what we need," Shane shook his head. "More damn opinions."

"That _is _what we need," said Rick, his patience wearing thin.

The hunter's arms remained folded across his chest as he stood before the two men. "Need somethin'?" He grunted at them.

Rick studied him for a moment. "Wanted to see what you thought."

Daryl looked from one man to the other. "Bout leavin'?"

"Yeah." The deputy sighed heavily.

The request sounded strange in Daryl's ears and he bit the corner of his lip, thinking. "Oughta find someplace private, outta the way."

"You think we're just gone run across a place that's got everything we need?" Shane scoffed.

"No," Daryl bit out, "I don't. Gonna have to find supplies as we go but we'll be better off keepin' our heads down…somewhere quiet, maybe somethin' further back in the woods."

Rick rubbed his jaw, weighing the hunter's words.

"You thinkin' walkers won't be as much of a problem that way?"

Daryl nodded. "Figure those things gotta be drawn to the main roads…noise…cars…they smell people; the farm was out in the open…easy access. Ain't gonna be as many out in the sticks."

"So we just hole up in some shack in the woods; that it?" Shane cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. "Ain't nothin' for us out there; place like Benning…" he slammed a fist into his open palm, "Place like that…ya got an arsenal, medicine, doctors…"

Daryl's lip curled back in anger, his hands going to his hips. "How do you know that place ain't swarmin' with walkers? Probably can't get near it…and even if we can…you think other people ain't out there tryin' to do the same damn thing? Supposin' there's another group got there before us…think they're gonna let us walk in? Hand out fuckin' welcome baskets?"

"You know what man…" Shane took several steps towards him and Daryl's hand hovered over the knife at his hip.

"What?" Daryl snapped, his eyes blue slits.

Rick moved between them and stood with his back to his partner.

Daryl looked past him, growling at Shane, "Ya'll asked me what I thought and I told ya." Spittle flew from his mouth with the hot words.

"Man I didn't ask you shit," said Shane as he pointed a finger at Daryl.

"Son of a…" The hunter clenched his jaw as he attempted to shove the deputy aside.

"Enough." Rick huffed placing a hand on Daryl's chest, pushing him back. "_Both_ of you," he turned to glare at Shane. "Arguin' ain't gettin' us anywhere."

Glenn stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Hey," he said, his voice soft, cautious.

"What?" Shane and Daryl both snapped at once, their eyes meeting as they exchanged sneers.

Rick frowned at each of them in turn before moving to Glenn's side, "Go ahead."

The younger man pulled the cap from his head and began to knead the bill, his eyes on the ground. "It's getting late; I think…maybe you all can finish this tomorrow. We really need to find a place to spend the night…someplace safe." He glanced back at the others, his gaze lingering on Maggie. "Whatever you decide…it can wait until tomorrow; we shouldn't be here after dark."

Rick nodded. "No…we shouldn't."

Glenn took a step closer and lowered his voice. "We passed an exit a few miles back; there was a sign for gas."

"You thinkin' we can stay there?" The deputy crossed his arms.

"At least for the night…gas station might have food." Glenn scanned the circle, taking note of the tired, haggard faces of the survivors. "They just need someplace safe…a roof…walls."

Rick looked over his shoulder at Shane, before addressing the group. "I know ya'll are wonderin' where we're headed." He cleared his throat and wiped the sweat from his eyes. The others stared at him, anxious. "That's a pretty big decision and I'm sure you all will agree that we could use a night to think it over. Our goal for now is to find shelter, rest, recuperate…get our heads clear." He paced within the circle. "Glenn says there's a gas station off an exit…few miles back…I'm thinkin' that's as good a place as any to hole up for the night." The deputy fell silent, waiting for someone to respond.

"It's not far," Glenn added. "There might be food."

Maggie turned to her father. "Think it'll be okay Daddy?"

Herschel sighed, "I don't know that we have a better option."

T-Dog clapped his hands together, "I say we go for it…better than standin' around here waitin' for the geeks to find us."

Rick met his wife's gaze and she gave him a small nod, her hand squeezing Carl's shoulder.

"Alright then," Rick studied the ground before lifting his head, "Everybody get your gear in the cars; you find somethin', toss it in the truck; we gotta move." He strode past Shane who was shaking his head. "You got somethin' to say?" Rick asked, his face inches from his partner's.

"Naw man. Nothin'." Shane walked away, muttering under his breath.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and cast a glance at Daryl. "You good with this?"

The hunter spat before answering. "I'm fine," he grunted. "We just need to get off this damn highway." With that, he stormed out of the circle, leaving the deputy alone.

Rick placed a hand on his forehead and quietly wondered how he would ever get them all to safety.

T-Dog reached out, catching Daryl's arm as he stalked past. "Hay man."

Daryl jerked away, "What?"

"How much you got left in that tank?" T-Dog pointed to the bike.

"Not a whole lot."

"Yeah; truck's runnin' low too. You wanna help me find some gas so our asses don't end up stranded?"

"Fine," Daryl looked around at all the rusted cars. "Where you wantin' to start?"

T-Dog passed a hand over the back of his head, "Just start checkin' tanks…poppin' trunks."

"Ya'll got the stuff to siphon?"

"In the trunk of the Buick." T-Dog gestured to the silver car.

"Alright then," Daryl rubbed the small of his back, "Let's get this shit done."

T-Dog nodded and the two of them made their way to the Buick. Carol watched as they walked past.

Daryl turned and caught her staring at him; she blinked, lowering her gaze.

"_Shoes_," he hissed.

She smiled down at her feet and Daryl shook his head as he and T-dog reached the car.

Carol slumped to the ground and reached into her canvas bag; she sighed as she pulled out a ratty pair of sneakers. The cuts stung, reopening as she shoved her feet into the shoes. Andrea crouched beside her, "You have any clothes in that bag?"

Carol shook her head as she tied the fraying laces.

"Lori and I found a few suitcases; you should come take a look…see if there's anything you might want."

"Okay." She rose, adjusting to the feeling of the sneakers on her stinging feet.

"We should tell Maggie; I'm sure her and Beth will need clothes…I think the only thing Patricia left with was that nightgown." Andrea led them towards the Buick where Glenn and Maggie stood talking with Herschel and Patricia.

"What's up?" Glenn asked as he saw the blonde woman approaching.

"Wanted to see if Maggie and Patricia feel like going through some luggage with us; Beth too if she's up." Andrea licked her dry lips. "We're gonna need clothes…blankets. I'm sure you all didn't have time to grab much before you left."

Maggie and Patricia exchanged glances. "Sure," the Greene girl spoke up first. "I don't wanna wake Beth but me 'n Patricia will take a look…see what we can find." She gave Glenn's hand a squeeze before taking her place beside Andrea and Carol.

Patricia hugged herself as she stood next to Herschel. "Go on," he said. "I'll keep an eye on her."

They both peered through the windshield at the sleeping girl in the backseat. A crease formed in Patricia's brow.

"She'll be alright," Herschel assured her, his voice gentle. "Go."

She leaned over the hood, and pressed her hand to the glass, wishing that she could make Beth forget all of this.

"C'mon," Maggie said as she tugged on Patricia's sleeve. "I swear Beth stuffed her bag so full of pictures she barely had room left for clothes; I'm sure she'd like it if we found a blanket for the night."

"Alright," Patricia answered as she turned to follow the others.

"We don't have a lot of time so just grab anything you think you might need; there's a few big suitcases over there," Andrea pointed ahead then looked at Carol, "Do you and Patricia want to sort through the luggage while Maggie and I check cars? I'm still hoping to find sleeping bags, tents...anything that might make tonight easier."

Carol nodded.

"Let's stick to the trucks, vans…anything with a lot of storage space," said Andrea as she led Maggie towards an overturned SUV. "Anything you find," she called back to the other women, "Just toss it in the back of the pickup."

Patricia and Carol knelt beside the suitcases and quickly began sifting through the scattered contents. A small pile formed between them as they pulled sweaters, shirts and coats from the luggage. The worked in silence, eyes scanning rapidly, fingers plunging into tangled masses of sleeves and pants. Carol's eyes narrowed as she studied a small, red scarf, the fabric seeming almost garish in her pale hands; she sighed.

Patricia paused, looking up. "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine," said Carol as she folded the scarf. "It's just that Sophia…" she cleared her throat before continuing, "My daughter; she gave me one like this last Christmas. Bought it with her own money."

A small smile graced Patricia's lips and she reached out, covering Carol's hand with her own. "Keep it."

Carol wiped at her eyes, returning the smile as she tucked the scarf into her back pocket.

The two women continued to sort through the luggage in silence until Patricia paused; she lifted her head and looked out at highway, at the endless trail of abandoned cars…rusted, metal tombs…. "I knew it had to be bad."

"What?" Carol asked as she unzipped another suitcase.

"This," Patricia extended an arm, indicating the destruction around them.

Carol followed her gaze.

"I knew when it all started…the broadcasts stop…and then those things….no one knew what to do…where to go." She frowned, remembering. "Seemed like wherever we turned, those things were already there…'till we decided we just had to stay inside, lock the doors…wait it out." Patricia ran her fingers through her tangle of blonde hair. "I knew it was bad…we all did…but I never.." her voice cracked, "I never thought…" Tears began to well in her eyes.

"No one did," Carol whispered as she moved to the other woman's side and placed a hand on her back.

"Never thought we'd actually leave," Patricia managed as she tried to maintain her composure. "All these people…" she stared at the empty cars.

"Don't think about that; what matters is that we're alive." Carol said, her voice soft but earnest. "We survived…and that's what we have to keep doing. Every day." She took one of Patricia's shaking hands in her own and squeezed. "We are not alone." Her blue eyes shone with hope as she looked back at the others before refocusing on Patricia. "We have people…family."

Patricia sniffed, nodding.

"We'll get out of this." She stared out at the highway, strewn with debris…the little pieces…worldly reminders of lives lost…Patricia's hand was warm with life, though it still trembled. "We are not alone," Carol repeated.

The two women looked at each other, seeking strength…comfort…the things they would need if they truly meant to live, to survive in this new world.

T-Dog and Daryl listened to the trickle of gasoline as it filled the plastic container.

"Shit is nasty," T-Dog said with a grimace.

Daryl knelt beside the yellow mustang and peeked into the container. "Ain't supposed to drink it," he muttered as he watched the amber liquid pour from the tube.

T-Dog glared at the hunter, "I told Glenn we needed a clear hose. Kid remembers to grab the guns, Carol's shit, that picture of Sophia…but ain't nobody think to bring a clear hose." He spat, still trying to get the taste of the gasoline out of his mouth.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Think we're lucky to have this shit at all. Without gas…" he stopped to shake the last drops of fuel from the tube. "We'd be gettin' real cozy in this scrap heap." He lifted the container and carefully handed it to T-Dog. "Here; should get the truck back to that gas station."

T-Dog cradled the red jug, his eyes darting from the pickup back to Daryl. "Am I the only one worried about good cop and bad cop over there?"

Daryl pulled the hose from the gas tank and looked over his shoulder. Rick and Shane were loading supplies into the truck bed. "Nope."

"All this arguin' they been doing needs to stop; we ain't got time for that. Whatever the beef between them is, they better grill it up and eat it," said T-Dog as he squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun.

Daryl gave a small grunt of agreement as he rose, the slick tube clutched tightly in his hand. "Let's get the hell out of here." T-Dog followed him and they made their way back to the rest of the group.

"What all do we have?" Rick asked as everyone gathered around the pickup. Glenn stepped up to the tailgate and looked down into the truck bed.

"Looks like…" he inched his way around, trying to get a good sense of the contents. "About a dozen cans of food…decent pile of clothes…a few blankets…some sleeping bags…" his brows knit together as he rummaged through the remaining items…"Flashlight…few more guns…couple of knives…lighter…some books and….one tent." He drummed his fingers on the edge of the truck bed and waited for a response.

"One tent…" Shane snorted, shaking his head.

Rick rubbed his temple, "Guess these folks weren't plannin' to do much campin'. Still, I think that's a good start; we can always do some more scavenging at the gas station. Let's move."

T-Dog approached the truck and held up the red container.

"How much?" Rick asked.

"Enough to get us there."

The deputy nodded, "Alright; let's be quick."

T-Dog walked around the truck and flipped open the gas cap; he carefully moved the narrow mouth of the jug to the opening and began to pour. "How much you need?" He asked as Daryl stood beside him.

"Just leave me a third of that."

"You sure?" T-Dog glanced sideways at the hunter.

"Yeah; it'll be fine."

"Whatever you say man."

Daryl looked up to see Patricia and Carol coming towards the pickup. Each of them carried large bundles of clothes and blankets which they quickly dropped into the truck bed.

"Few blankets, some warm clothes…" Carol explained as Rick approached her.

"Thank you," he said, eyeing each of them in turn. He gave Carol's shoulder a gentle squeeze and she let her hand rest over his.

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange.

"Here, man."

"Hm?" Daryl blinked.

"Here; take it before I use it all." said T-Dog as he thrust the container into Daryl's chest.

T-Dog looked up and saw Carol and Rick on the other side of the truck.

_Oh…_

His gaze moved slowly from Carol, to Rick and finally to Daryl. He shook his head and sighed as he walked to the driver's side door.

The hunter quickly made his way to the bike.

Shane joined Rick and T-Dog beside the truck.

"Anybody feel like drivin?" asked T-Dog as he looked from one deputy to the next.

"I'll drive," Shane offered. "T; you wanna get the passenger's side? Then Rick can ride in the bed with Lori 'n Carl."

"Fine with me," said T-Dog as he rounded the front of the pickup.

Rick gave his partner a stiff nod before walking to the Buick.

"We headin' out?" Herschel asked as the deputy approached.

"Yeah, looks like we're about ready. You all okay?"

"I think so." Herschel's hands were in his pockets as he eyed Glenn and Maggie. "The boy knows where we're goin' so he'll drive."

Rick scratched the back of his head, "Looks like your back seat might be a little crowded but ya think there might be room for Carol?"

"I'm sure we could manage," said the farmer.

"Alright then," he turned to face Glenn. "You pull out, we'll follow you…anybody has a problem, just stop; pull over; don't honk. We don't know how far the sound will carry or if there's a herd nearby."

Glenn nodded and moved to the driver's side door. Maggie and Patricia eased into the backseat quietly so as not to disturb Beth. Satisfied, the deputy began to walk away but Herschel's voice stopped him.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

Herschel paused, studying the younger man. "You sure about this?"

Rick's hands were on his hips; he stared out at the horizon as he tried to summon up the right words. "I'm not sure of anything." He left Herschel to his thoughts and made his way back to the truck bed.

Andrea grunted as she helped pull Lori over the tailgate. Carl scrambled up after them and the three began rearranging cargo so that they might sit comfortably.

Lori sighed as she leaned back against a pile of clothes. "Lord." Her eyes closed and one hand was resting overt her belly.

"You okay?" Andrea asked as sat with her knees pulled to her chest.

"Fine, just ready to stop for the night. Feels like I haven't had a second to think since I heard that gunshot last night."

"Yeah, certainly feels like that." Her blonde hair fell in her face as she leaned forward, resting against her knees. "Hopefully we can secure the gas station…have a roof over our heads."

"Think there'll be walkers?" Asked Carl as he slumped down beside his mother.

"I don't know baby; I hope not." One of Lori's slender arms wrapped around him, keeping him close.

"At least we found a few sleeping bags," Andrea sighed.

"I'm still going to miss the tents," said Lori.

"It'll be okay," Carl added, his blue eyes fixed on his mother.

She looked down at him, a sad smile coming to her face. "I know honey." She leaned over placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I know."

The truck shifted just slightly as Rick climbed over the side. "Everybody good up here?" He asked.

"Think we're ready to get going," said Andrea as she lifted her head. "The sooner the better."

Rick nodded before settling in beside his son. "Just waitin' for Glenn 'n them." He pointed to the Buick. "We're gonna follow them and I guess Daryl will pick up the rear." He watched as the hunter stood beside the bike and hefted the cross bow onto his shoulder.

Patricia leaned out of the backseat and called to Carol, "You gonna ride with us? You're more than welcome; we'll make some room back here."

Carol took a few steps towards the car and then stopped, one hand going to the back of her neck; she rubbed it nervously as she stood in front of the open door.

"Carol?" Patricia's brow furrowed as she studied her friend.

"Actually…" she eyed Beth's sleeping form in the backseat. "It looks like you all are full up…I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable…"

"It's alright," Patricia assured her, "Beth'll be fine, really, we don't mind having you."

Carol chewed her lip as she glanced over her shoulder. Daryl was straddling the Triumph, his fingers curling around the handlebars as he waited for Glenn to pull out. She cleared her throat before meeting Patricia's gaze again. "I think I'm going to ride with Daryl…just so none of us are alone."

"Are you sure?"

Carol nodded as she continued to rub her neck.

"Okay then; we'll see you there." Patricia gave her a weak smile as she closed the door.

_So none of us will be alone? What is this? A buddy system?_

Carol groaned inwardly as she questioned herself.

_Who says he even wants you on the bike? For all you know he wants the time alone…hasn't he always been that way? You just assume he'll let you?_

She shook her head in an attempt to silence the nagging voice, but doubt still coiled in her stomach as she approached the bike. She licked her dry lips and eyed the bow on his back.

"You should let me carry that."

He turned and looked at her, his gaze resting on the red mark on her left shoulder where the strap had dug in.

She rubbed it gently, "It's fine, really; I don't mind."

He turned away and sighed.

Carol stood waiting but the hunter was silent.

_What are you doing? Just leave him alone…For god's sake…_

She tugged at the cross on her neck and took a hesitant step backwards, then another…

"Fine," he grunted.

Carol froze, her lips parting slightly. "What?"

"Take the damn thing." He shrugged the bow off his shoulder and held it out for her.

She took it, her eyes on his face, questioning his decision. "Ya just gonna stand there? We gotta move." He turned away.

Carol blinked as she slung the strap over her shoulder and felt the familiar weight of the bow. She was still confused as she moved forward, her hands gripping the seat as she swung her leg over.

"I don't wanna hear any gripin' about how heavy that thing is." He didn't wait for an answer as he kicked the start lever. He watched as Glenn turned the Buick around. The silver car pulled out slowly and the pickup followed. "Looks like they're finally ready…'bout time," he muttered as the bike started to rumble beneath them. He didn't have to tell Carol to hold on as they began moving; she slid forward instantly, her arms going around his waist. Once again, she felt him tense at the contact as her fingers laced together over his stomach.

_When will that stop?_

She ignored the thought and focused instead on the wreckage they were leaving behind. She looked over her shoulder at the cars, trucks…all the broken things…Her gaze lingered on the black SUV…on the smudged white lettering they'd left on the windshield…

_'Sophia, stay here…'_

But there was no life left in this place…only ghosts. The sun was dipping lower in the sky and it cast long, twisted shadows over the highway. Shattered glass sparkled like sugar crystals, refracting heavy beams of orange light as they spilled quietly over the asphalt. Carol sighed as she clung to Daryl and wondered if more death was all that awaited them at the gas station.

_Death…_

She'd gotten so used to saying it…thinking it… It was everywhere. She let her cheek rest against Daryl's back.

_We're always running from it…towards it…_

The thought chilled her and she closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth beneath her fingers.

_Life._

Their little caravan sped down the highway and tension began to seep from Carol's muscles. Images of the cars, scattered clothes…the lonely corpses trapped in their rusting cages…it all began to fade behind Carol's eyes, like pieces of a dream that the mind fumbles to grasp upon waking…blurry snap-shots grew darker and darker until they vanished completely and all that remained was the steady hum of the bike and the warmth she held in her arms.

Glenn leaned over the steering wheel as he turned into the small gas station.

"See anything?" Herschel asked.

"No…not yet." He adjusted his baseball cap as he scanned the area. "Looks deserted."

Gravel crunched beneath the tires as he slowed to a stop; Shane pulled up, parking the truck beside them.

Glenn looked at the three women in the backseat. "Stay here; I'm going to check it out."

Maggie stared at him, "I wanna go with you."

"Stay," Herschel said, one hand going to his daughter's knee. "I'll go with him."

She lowered her gaze in defeat.

"We'll come back as soon as we know it's safe," Glenn assured her.

"Be careful," said Beth. She leaned against her sister's shoulder, her eyes rimmed with red.

"We will; just stay here and keep quiet…we don't want to attract attention." He let the engine die and eased his door open.

Herschel got out and rubbed his stiff legs. The truck door squeaked on its hinges and Shane jumped down.

"Should we get our guns?" Herschel asked.

"No guns," Rick answered as he climbed out of the truck bed. "Whatever we find, we take care of it quietly." He called over his shoulder to Lori, Carl and Andrea, "Keep your heads down." The truck doors swung open as Shane and T-Dog jumped out.

Glenn opened the door to the backseat and reached past Patricia for his crowbar. She handed it to him and he could see the worry in her eyes. With no words of comfort to offer, Glenn quickly took the weapon and shoved the door closed.

The bike sputtered as Daryl pulled in behind the pickup. "Carol," he said softly, but she didn't answer. "Carol?" He called again as the engine died. "Ya gonna tell me your ass fell asleep _again_?"

She mumbled something into his back and tightened her grip on him.

Daryl sighed heavily. "C'mon," he grunted, his hand moving over hers. He meant to pry her fingers away from his stomach but her hands felt so small, soft beneath his palm…he hesitated. He looked down; her fingers flexed slightly, clawing at the fabric of his shirt. His hand was rough, calloused, the skin dark against hers. He continued to stare as his thumb began moving slowly over her knuckles, tracing the ridges. "C'mon," he whispered, gently squeezing her hand.

Carol had woken the moment he touched her but she remained quiet, still against him, hoping to savor the closeness for a moment longer. The sensation of his hand on hers was so welcome…so wanted; she was loathe to let it go. She breathed in his scent and couldn't help but hug him tighter as his thumb grazed her knuckles. She wanted to stay like that, pressed together, safe…But even as warmth began to spread through her, she knew it wouldn't last…moments like these, stolen seconds of kindness...comfort…they always seemed to get lost…to flicker and fade…tiny points of light in a world of shadows, snuffed out one by one…Every touch, every whispered word between them glowed in her mind, piercing the gloom of her thoughts…like fireflies floating…disappearing over tall grass.

She heard him urging her…

"C'mon."

With a soft sigh, Carol pulled her hands away and began to rub the stiff fingers. He stood and swung his leg over the seat.

"Sorry to wake ya," he said sarcastically as he stood beside the bike waiting for her.

She smirked at him and slid awkwardly off the seat. "Should I drive next time?"

Daryl just snorted and held out his hand.

Carol stared at him, confused.

"Give it here," he said, eyeing the strap on her shoulder.

She bit her lip as she shrugged off the bow. "Take the damn thing," Carol said as she walked past him, rolling her aching shoulders. She was making her way to the others when she stopped to look back at him, "It's heavy." She smiled as she turned away, her arms folding over her chest.

Daryl felt the corner of his mouth quirk up in amusement as he slung the bow across his back and followed her.

Rick beckoned as he saw them approaching.

"What's the plan?" Daryl asked as he stood before the others.

"Look around; make sure things are safe inside and out," said the deputy. "Me 'n Shane are gonna head in; you okay out here with Glenn 'n Herschel?"

Daryl nodded. "What about them?" He looked from the truck to the Buick.

"They're stayin' put till we clear this place. They've got the guns in the Buick and there's those knives we found in the pickup." Rick watched as Andrea, Carl and Lori climbed down from the truck and piled into the cab. "T; you mind stickin' by the cars? Keepin' an eye on things?"

"Whatever you need," T-Dog answered.

Carol took a step towards the silver car but Daryl grabbed her arm, making her turn.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes moving from his face to the hand on her arm.

"C'mere." He nodded to the pickup.

She cast a nervous glance at the others before following him.

"Just gimme a second," Daryl called to Rick.

"What?" Carol asked again as they stood beside the tailgate.

He hoisted himself over the side of the truck and dropped to his knees, searching through the miscellaneous gear.

She peered over the side, her fingers resting on the edge. "Daryl?"

He ignored her as he continued to lift blankets and shove piles of clothing aside. Finally he rose, something black clutched in his hand. Carol stepped back as he jumped down. "Here," he said, extending his arm.

She studied his face before looking at the item; It was some sort of cloth…or shirt…. A crease formed in her brow and her hand hovered cautiously over the dark material.

"Go on," he urged, "Inside."

Carol met his gaze as she touched the cloth; there was something underneath…She pulled the fabric back, her lips parting as she saw five small knives.

"Pick one," he said. "They ain't the best but ya oughtta have somethin'…in case." He cleared his throat, waiting.

She let her fingers run lightly over each of them before selecting one; it was a bit larger than the others with a clip on the handle.

"You can keep it on your belt; that's what the clip's for." He walked to the driver's side door and knocked on the window. "Hey."

Lori pushed the door open.

"Ya'll hold onto these," he handed her the bundle of knives, still wrapped in the dark t-shirt.

She nodded before pulling the door closed; he made his way back to Carol.

"Know how to use it?"

"I've never…" she started to shake her head.

"Ain't hard." He took the knife from her and flipped the blade out.

She watched his hands.

"Here," he pointed to the base of the blade, visible through a cut-out in the handle; there was a small notch. "Just press here and flick your wrist; that gets the blade out.

Carol nodded.

"Now, when ya wanna get it back in," he ran his thumb along the back of the blade, stopping just before he reached the handle. "Just press down…might take a little pressure the first few times but you'll feel it give…." He slowly pushed the blade until it was hidden in the handle. "Lemme see ya do it."

Carol took the knife from his open palm; she caught his eyes for an instant as her fingers closed around the small weapon. She licked her lips and pressed the spot he'd shown her. Frowning, she flicked her wrist hard and the blade swung out with a snapping sound. She stood with the blade pointed at Daryl.

"See? Easy."

She clenched her teeth as she pushed the blade down into the handle.

"Just remember," He touched two fingers to his temple, like a gun. "Get 'em in the head."

Carol stared at him as he moved past her.

"Try to stay awake," he called over his shoulder.

She blinked and made her way to the Buick. Patricia held the door open for her. "You alright?" the blonde woman asked as she pulled the door closed.

Carol squeezed into the backseat and looked down at the knife in her hand. "Fine," she answered, her fingers closing around the smooth handle.

Daryl gripped the crossbow strap, his eyes darting from Glenn to Herschel. "We doin' this or what?"

Glenn let the crowbar rest against his shoulder, "Yeah."

"Let's get it over with then; we ain't got but so much daylight left." The hunter strode past them.

Herschel looked at Glenn but the young man only shrugged as he turned to follow Daryl.

"Call out if you need to," Rick told the farmer before he and Shane headed to the main doors.

Herschel listened to the rustling of the plastic bags that covered the pumps and hoped that no one would need to call for help.

Shane pulled the glass door open slowly and stuck his head inside; he looked quickly from left to right before stepping in with Rick on his heels. The two partners stood for a moment in the entryway, their eyes scanning the room. There was a checkout counter to their left and Shane pointed to it, Rick nodded and they both began to inch towards it, careful to step lightly. Taking a deep breath, Shane peered over the counter.

"Anything?" Rick called softly from behind his partner.

"Naw man." Shane's eyes narrowed as he studied dark stains on the floor and on the register keys…blood. He reached out, running his fingers over the keys, "Dry." The blood crackled and flaked as he rubbed it. "Stains are old…" He took a step back from the counter and looked around. "Not sure anybody's been here since it all went down."

Rick nodded to the aisles that ran the length of the small convenience store. "Looks like we got plenty to eat; let's keep movin…check bathrooms."

They moved silently past the counter and headed for the back of the store. When they reached the restrooms the partners exchanged glances. "I'll take men's, you take women's," Rick whispered.

"Fine by me," Shane said under his breath; the partners separated.

Rick eased the men's room door open with the toe of his boot. His hand slid up the wall as he searched for a light switch. He felt the small lever and flicked it, but nothing happened. "Damitt," he hissed taking another step inside the restroom. His eyes struggled to adapt to the gloom. He took another careful step and froze…something seemed to glide past the edge of his vision; he spun around, letting out a heavy breath when he realized it was his own reflection, moving across the grimy glass of a large mirror. "Christ…" Rick muttered as he moved past the sinks, his own image was fragmented as he paused before a crack in the glass. Several sets of green eyes stared back at him and he swallowed hard, calming himself.

To the left were three urinals and to the right, three stalls. He sucked in a sharp breath as he kicked the first door in…nothing. A few scraps of toilet paper littered the floor and he moved to the next stall…nothing. Finally, he stood outside the third stall, he pulled his pistol from its holster and gripped the barrel so that he might use it like a club. Gripping the pistol tight, he shoved the door open…but all he was a bloody handprint on one of the walls. He took a step back, letting the door swing closed. The deputy scratched the back of his head as he scanned the room.

_Nothing…_

Shane's dark eyes followed a broken trail from the floor, up the back wall to a small window ledge. He reached up, running his fingers along the narrow ledge; the paint had been scratched away in places and as he squinted, he saw lines in the glass...as if someone were clawing to get out. Blood had dried, leaving rust-colored stains on what was remained of the broken pane. He walked back towards the door and grabbed the large trashcan; he lifted it, carrying it back to the far wall. Shane set the trash can down gently before clambering on top of it. The plastic lid buckled slightly beneath his weight and he raised his arms for balance. "Shit," he breathed as he steadied himself. Slowly, he stood until he was level with the window.

He clung to the ledge as he leaned forward, careful to avoid the bits of jagged glass still stuck to the sides of the frame. In the distance he could see Glenn, Daryl and Herschel walking the perimeter. He coughed as the smell of corruption hit him, "Lord," he said as he covered his nose and mouth. On the ground, below the window, lay two bodies. Shane frowned as he stared down at them. He supposed one must have fallen, its left arm was twisted beneath it at an unnatural angle. The second…the smaller one… had skeletal fingers still wedged in the dirt…as if it were trying to crawl away…Faded, moldy scraps of clothing still clung to their brittle frames. They wore the perpetual grins of the dead, teeth gleaming against the yellowing bone of their jaws. Side by side, the two corpses stared back at him with empty eyes….but it wasn't their faces that troubled Shane…it was their legs. "Fuckin' geeks," he muttered. All the flesh had been stripped away from their legs…the bones were broken, scattered, gnawed clean…the remains of a foot lay several feet away and Shane choked down the bile that was rising in his throat.

"Don't look like there's much here," said Daryl as he walked along the wood line, behind the gas station.

"Place seems pretty cut off," Glenn added.

"I'd say that's an advantage," Daryl wiped the sweat from his brow, "Ain't like we wanna be found…by walkers or anythin' else."

"You all think we'll be safe here for the night?" Herschel asked as he followed the younger men.

Daryl's eyes darted left and right as he searched for any sign of life…any movement among the trees. "Unless officer friendly comes across somethin' inside, I think we're good for the night."

Herschel glanced nervously at the gas station.

"They'll be fine," Glenn assured him. "T-Dog's keeping watch."

The farmer nodded solemnly as they made their way back.

Suddenly, Glenn stopped. "Over there," he called, pointing to the small building.

Daryl followed his gaze to the two mangled corpses; he squinted, studying them for a moment before he kept moving. Herschel and Glenn stared at him.

"What?" He snapped, "That ain't nothin' to worry about. They're the old fashioned kinda dead…they ain't goin' nowhere."

Herschel looked at the bodies once more before moving on. "Suppose you're just used to it," he said softly.

Daryl turned, facing him.

"Death," the farmer clarified. "When I lost Johanna…and Sean…when your people cleared the barn…I thought I'd seen it…stared it down and faced its ugliness…I didn't think anything could be worse than seein' my wife…my friends and neighbors there in the dirt…"

Daryl's hand went to his hip as he hung his head.

"But seein' it out here," Herschel gestured to the lonely bodies beside the building. "Seein' how widespread it is…how nothing and no one went untouched…it's enough to make you stop and question…"

"Question what?" The hunter asked, his eyes narrowing into blue slits.

"Why we're doin' all this…" The farmer thrust his hands into his pockets.

Daryl took a step forward, closing the gap between himself and the older man. "Because we ain't endin' up like that," he hissed, pointing at the corpses. "Least I ain't." His jaw was set hard. "Some chew toy for a damn walker…" he muttered as he turned away from Herschel. "Lord…" He'd taken several steps when he paused and looked over his shoulder, "Ya don't get used to it," he grunted.

Herschel raised his head, meeting the younger man's gaze.

"Ya just accept it." Daryl resumed his trek towards the building; he heard footsteps as the others trailed after him.

"Man, you think they got twinkies in there?" T-Dog asked as he leaned against the truck.

Andrea stuck her head out of the window, a crease forming in her brow. "What?"

"Twinkies…can't remember the last time I had one."

Andrea rolled her eyes.

"What?" He asked as she shook her head. "I don't ask for much…and I think we've all had our share of shit luck for one day…All I want is a damn twinkie. I mean, not that squirrel and deer and all that mess ain't been great but…lord."

"Twizzlers," she said.

T-Dog stared at her, "Huh?"

"They were my favorite when I was a kid; my mom would always send me care packages while I was in college and first thing I looked for, every time…twizzlers." She smiled, her chin resting on her arm.

T-Dog laughed, "End of the world, mindless freaks all over the place and here we are talkin' 'bout junk food."

Their laughter died down as they saw Rick and Shane emerge from the store.

"Doesn't look like they ran into any trouble," said T-Dog as he walked to meet them.

Andrea pushed the door open and jumped down; Carl and Lori did the same.

Upon seeing the others leave the truck, Maggie, Beth, Patricia and Carol spilled out of the Buick. The group of survivors gathered in the center of the small, gravel lot. "How was it in there?" Andrea asked, her arms folding across her chest.

"We didn't find anything," Rick said as he kicked absently at the ground. "Seems like as good a place as any to hole up for the night."

"Window's busted in one of the bathrooms," Shane added, "We'll have to find a way to board it but other than that, it's good to go."

Maggie rubbed her sister's shoulders, "Thank god."

"Let's get the blankets and sleeping bags inside before it's too dark to see out here." Rick nodded to the truck. As the group moved towards the pickup Rick stopped. He turned to see Daryl, Glenn and Herschel rounding the side of the building. "Everything alright?" The deputy called out.

"So far," Daryl answered.

Carol looked up at the sound of his voice.

"We gotta get this gear inside," Rick said as the three men approached the group.

"Whose takin' first watch?" the hunter asked as he looked around at the others.

T-Dog opened his mouth to say something but Rick cut him off, "I'll take it."

"Man; you sure?" T-Dog asked.

The deputy nodded. "Stayin' here was my call; I'll take first watch."

"You need any company…just an extra set of eyes…let me know," T-Dog clapped him on the back before heading to the truck.

"I might take you up on that," Rick called after him.

"How were things inside?" Glenn asked as he moved to Maggie's side.

"Quiet," Rick answered, "Nothin' to be concerned about."

"So…its safe?" Beth's voice was raw from crying.

"It's safe," the deputy assured her. "You all should go on in; find a place to bed down for the night."

Maggie looked to her father.

"It's alright; go. I'll be along in a minute," he said.

The two sisters made their way to the small building with Patricia in their wake. Glenn watched them go.

"Why don't you head on in? Help them get settled?" Herschel asked as he eyed the younger man.

"Sir?" Glenn's eyes darted from Rick to Herschel.

"It's fine Glenn; I think we've got things pretty much covered out here," said Rick.

Without another word, Glenn took off towards the store.

"He's a good kid." The deputy gave Herschel a weak smile.

"I believe it," said the farmer. "It seems you've been very fortunate to find such a strong group. This world…" Herschel sighed, his eyes going to the ground. "I think it's all too easy for people to lose their humanity, their goodness in times like these…but your group," he licked his lips, "They're decent people…that's hard to come by…even before all of this," He waved a hand in the air.

"I know," Rick said softly, "That's why I'm tryin' so hard to keep us together…alive." He watched as Lori tossed a thick blanket down from the truck bed; Carl caught it, laughing.

"Well we're here now; safe." Herschel began walking towards the pickup to help the others. "And I suppose that's all we can ask for."

As the hush of evening fell over the gas station, the survivors began to stake their claims. Glenn, Beth and Maggie had chosen a spot between the second and third isles while Patricia and Herschel laid their things in the next aisle over.

Carl looked up at his mother questioningly as they entered the small store.

"Let's get as far away from the doors as we can," she said, leading him to the back. They dropped their gear in the far corner, near the cooler section; Shane followed and slumped down a few feet away, his back to the glass.

"I didn't know it was possible to be this tired," Lori sighed as she unrolled a small sleeping bag.

Shane chuckled, "I don't hear Carl complainin'. You hangin' in there?" He turned to face the boy.

"Trying," Carl shrugged. "Be easier with one of those." He pointed to the cooler behind Shane.

The deputy looked over his shoulder at a row of untouched Mountain Dew bottles. Shane shook his head, smiling. "That stuff will have ya runnin' laps around this place."

"That," Lori gestured to the radioactive-looking green sodas, "Is the last thing you need; now come help me with this blanket."

While Lori and her son arranged their things, Carol was attempting to shove the glass door open with her shoulder, her hands holding a large bundle. She let out a small grunt as she put all her weight against the door.

"Here," said Daryl as he pressed his palm flat against the door, holding it open.

"Thanks," Carol managed as she moved past him, her back brushing his chest as she did.

"Your ass was takin' too long," he muttered, following her in.

Carol smiled to herself as she walked past the check-out counter and set her things down in a dark corner. Searching through her canvas bag, she found a small washcloth and a plain, cotton shirt. The others were beginning to search the aisles for food; Carol heard the rustling and crinkling of plastic and a sharp popping sound as someone opened a bag of chips. She moved quietly along the back wall until she reached the bathroom.

The sky had turned a deep shade of purple and Carol stood in the gloomy bathroom, grateful for the darkness; she didn't want to see the ugly spots of dried blood on her face. She took a breath as she stepped up to the sink and turned one of the rusted knobs. A groaning sound seemed to come up from the pipes before water began to trickle from the faucet.

_Thank god…_

She sighed, holding her cloth beneath the water until it was thoroughly soaked. Carol bit her lip, wringing out the excess, the rag twisted in her hands. Cold drops fell to the sink and were swallowed by the little current that disappeared down the dark drain. She lifted the cloth to her face, eyes closing as she felt the cool moisture on her wind-burnt skin. She scrubbed gently, with circular motions to lift away dirt, sweat and blood. When she pulled the rag away she squinted through the dark and saw how filthy it had become. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to feel clean again…to rid herself of every stain…every terrible reminder of that night… She laid the rag on the sink, her hands going to the hem of her shirt. Carol pulled the soiled garment over her head, wincing as the fabric was yanked away from the raw scrape on her back. She quickly balled up the bloody shirt and dropped it into the trashcan.

As she stood before the mirror, the thin black, strap of her bra slipped down her shoulder; she adjusted it and straightened her back, her eyes catching a glint of gold from the cross that rested between her breasts. She leaned forward, her hands gripping either side of the sink.

_You're fine….you made it. We're safe here…_

The sound of running water pulled her from her thoughts and she grabbed the cloth, rinsing it out beneath the steady stream. She closed her eyes and pressed the dripping rag to the back of her neck; clear beads slipped down her spine like tears, stinging as they rolled over the scraped skin. Some of the tension began to melt away as she moved the cloth over the slope of her shoulder and down her arm. She rinsed the rag again before washing the other arm; when she reached her wrist, Carol stopped. Even in the gloom of the bathroom she could see the bruises on her pale skin. She covered the small marks with the rag and scrubbed, as if the water might wash them away. She held the cloth beneath the water again and again, rubbing blood and dirt from her stomach, her back, her legs and finally her feet. When she was finally satisfied, Carol pulled the clean shirt over her head, sighing at the feel of soft cotton against her skin. Before leaving the bathroom, she held her hand under the faucet, letting water flow from her fingertips. She turned the knob, stopping the stream as she lifted her arm and ran a wet hand trough her short hair, mussing it. Not a shower…but as close as any of them were likely to get. Feeling close to clean, Carol let out a heavy breath and made her way back to her corner.

Lori and Andrea had insisted she take one of the three sleeping bags for herself but Carol felt strange arranging the large bedroll…guilty even.

_I don't need this…_

She dragged the sleeping bag back against the wall and set her canvas bag down to serve as a crude pillow. Exhausted, Carol fell back onto the soft material and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes followed a crack in one of the tiles and she lazily wondered what had caused it. Dark stains…cracks, tiny fissures in the ceiling…Carol studied them as her lids grew heavy.

"Hey."

Something nudged her hip and she sat up suddenly. Daryl was staring down at her, a stick of beef jerky in his hand.

"What?" She managed as she rubbed her tired eyes.

"Ain't ya gonna eat?"

She eyed the offering.

"Go on," he said.

Carol took the jerky and scooted back against the wall. Daryl slumped down a few feet away, watching her.

"Are you just going to watch me eat?" She asked, taking a bite.

He looked away.

She chewed as they sat in silence. "Think we'll be alright here?"

"Good a place as any," he muttered.

She nodded, taking another bite. "Rick seems to think it's safe." She swallowed, wishing she had something better to say.

Daryl didn't respond. He sat cross legged, tearing absently at a hole in his jeans.

"Thanks…for this," she held up the wrapper before setting it aside. "Think I might actually get some sleep now."

He turned to see her slipping into the sleeping bag. "What about you?" She asked, covering a yawn.

"Same; It's gonna be a long ass day tomorrow."

"Yeah?" She was propped on one elbow, staring at him.

He ran a hand through his hair, "Rick 'n Shane gotta get their shit straight."

Carol let her head rest on the canvas bag, "They will." She yawned again.

"Comfortable?" He asked.

"I told them I didn't need this thing," she sighed; one of her arms rose and dropped back down in frustration.

"Sure," he teased.

Her brows knit together as she stared at him in disbelief. "I _did_."

He snorted, rolling his eyes.

"You want it?" She asked as she unzipped the bag and threw the top layer back.

A hint of color crept to his face, "Just givin' ya a hard time…Lord."

Carol shook her head and laid back down.

"Night," he muttered as he rose to leave.

The thick cloud of exhaustion was clouding Carol's mind as her eyes closed and she settled into the soft fabric. "Stay," she whispered.

Daryl froze; he looked down at the fragile woman in the sleeping bag…her skin pale, almost glowing in the darkness. He could hear her soft, steady breathing as the arms of sleep opened to her.

_What do ya want from me?_

He tore his eyes from her and walked back to the counter where he'd left his things. He grabbed his bow and the wool blanket he'd taken from the truck. Taking a breath, Daryl made his way back to Carol's corner. He moved past her, creating distance, before he dropped his things to the ground. Reluctantly, he rolled up the thick blanket and placed it behind his head as he leaned back against the cool wall. The bow lay beside him, well within reach if he should have need of it. He clasped his hands over his stomach and sighed. When he turned to look at her, she shifted in the sleeping bag so that her back was facing him. She'd left the side unzipped and he stared at her thin form…at the ridges of her spine beneath her shirt…Daryl nearly jumped when he heard the tinkling of a bell and voices as T-Dog and Andrea entered the store. He cleared his throat at the sound of T-Dog's heavy footsteps approaching.

"There you are."

"Need somethin?" Daryl grunted.

"Naw, just tryin' to figure out where ya'll are at. Think I'm gonna head out and check on Rick in an hour or so…make sure he's not losin' it out there." T-Dog said as he scratched his jaw.

Daryl nodded, "Ya see anythin', come get me."

"Will do; try and get some rest." T-Dog rounded the end of the aisle, leaving the hunter alone.

_Quit…_

He scolded himself and let his eyes close as he listened to the others bedding down, eating…talking softly. As sleep took him, Daryl let out a heavy sigh and felt his worries falling quietly away…if only for the night.

Carol woke to a pitch-black world and sat bolt upright as she struggled to remember where she was. Her neck was sore and she rubbed it, acknowledging that the canvas bag filled with her things was probably not the best choice for a pillow. One hand reached out, feeling the cold, linoleum floor beyond the sleeping bag.

_The gas station…_

She could hear soft breathing and snores coming from the others.

_We're here…together…_

Carol felt relief wash over her as she remembered….but then something else entered her mind.

_Daryl._

She frowned in the dark, trying hard to recall what she'd said to him before falling asleep.

_ Oh god…_

She covered her mouth as her eyes widened…'Stay.'

_ I asked him to stay…Jesus…why? Why would you do that?_

Carol smacked her palm against her forehead and wondered where he'd gone. She squinted through the inky, blackness and saw something…someone to her left…several feet away, along the wall… She rubbed her eyes and looked harder…

_ Daryl?_

She looked away and fished the cross out from under her shirt. Clutching the small charm, Carol sat alone and tried desperately to clear her head.

_He stayed? But…_

Suddenly, it occurred to her that the reason didn't matter.

_He stayed._

Emboldened by the thought, Carol threw the top layer back and wriggled free of the sleeping bag. Carefully, quietly, she made her way towards him. Each step was slow, cautious…she did not want to wake the others. She paused before dropping to her knees beside him.

_What are you doing?_

She swallowed hard as she placed a shaking hand on his shoulder.

"Daryl?" she whispered.

He stirred but didn't wake.

Carol looked around, wondering if anyone else had heard her. She tightened her grip on his shoulder, "Daryl? Please wake up…" She brought her lips to his ear, "Please."

He grunted and eased on eye open. "Hm?"

She smiled through the dark "Hey; I just wan…" the words died on her tongue as he jerked, his hands going to her throat.

Carol gasped, her nails clawing at his wrists, "Daryl," she breathed, "It's me!"

His lips parted as he loosened his grip on her. "Carol?" He hissed.

"It's me…" she coughed. He pulled his hands away.

"The hell you doin'?"

"I just…" She was rubbing her neck.

"Ya alright?" He leaned in close, straining to see if the skin was bruised.

"Think so…" another cough escaped her.

"Christ." His head was in his hands

"I was just trying to…"

"Go to sleep Carol," he growled at her.

She stared at him, her breathing still ragged as she massaged her aching neck. "Come with me."

He sat up, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

She swallowed, her hands dropping to rest on her thighs. "I feel safer…" she paused as her burning mind struggled to produce the right words..in the right order…"When you're close." The words were hushed…strained.

He chewed his thumbnail and looked away.

She waited as each second seemed to tick by slower than the last.

"Ya gonna stay put and quit sneakin' around like a damn cat?" He muttered under his breath.

Carol nodded.

He looked around before lifting a finger to his lips.

"They're all asleep," she whispered.

He glared at her.

"Sorry," she said as she crept back to her corner.

He reached down to grab the bundle he'd been using as a pillow. As carol knelt to crawl into her sleeping bag Daryl leaned down behind her, "If you so much as move…If I hear one more goddamn word…" he whispered, the words hot against her ear.

She turned, her face inches from his, "I won't; alright?" Her voice was soft but firm.

"Fine." He sat beside the sleeping bag. "Your ass better be asleep in the next five minutes."

Carol ignored him and slid between the layers of her bed roll.

He placed the soft bundle behind his head and leaned back against the wall…again.

_ Christ…_

He heard a zipping sound and turned to see Carol opening the sleeping bag completely, transforming it into a giant blanket.

"What are ya doin'?" He hissed.

Carol took a moment to master herself, "It's hot," she lied.

Daryl stared at her as she turned away from him and curled up on her side. Her heart was hurling itself against her ribs and blood was pounding painfully in her ears. She peered into the darkness with wide eyes and wondered what in the hell she was doing.

_For god's sake! Why? What are you hoping to get out of this? 'Come with me.' Really? Stop and take a breath…he could have killed you…_

The voice in her head seemed to grow louder with each passing second.

_Why are you doing this? Fooling yourself? He doesn't…_

She stopped when she heard him shift. Peeking over her shoulder, she was able to make out his dark silhouette against the white wall. His knees were raised, supporting his elbows.

_Alone…He's always alone._

There was a tightening in her chest as she looked away. Carol couldn't say how long she lied still, pretending to sleep, in that shadowed corner. The soreness in her neck, where he'd grabbed her, was slowly subsiding…only to be replaced by a different pain…the angry throb of an open wound. The closeness was maddening and Carol felt as though she were grappling with herself, fighting to stay still, quiet…to keep herself from going to him… She clenched her teeth and clawed lightly at the lining of the bed roll.

_Stop…you can't…_

But he was there…the center of gravity pulling, tugging slowly at her consciousness; she fought it…alone in the dark, struggling against an invisible current. When she heard his breathing slow, she turned. She watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath, steady, even. He grunted softly, adjusting his hands over his stomach. Her eyes moved over him, lingering on his face. She'd never seen him sleep; it was strange…almost unnatural. To see someone so angry…so tense, seemingly at ease…fascinated Carol. Daryl was aggressive, restless, quick to anger and often unpredictable…

_You'd think we'd need to sedate him to get him to sleep…_

She almost laughed at the thought but stopped herself; one of his fingers twitched over his stomach but he still slept. Her eyes were fixed on his hands now…he still wore a bandage and Carol sighed, remembering when she'd pulled the splinter from his palm. She continued to admire the hands that had held hers when he taught her to shoot the rifle…the hands that caught her when she was falling… She looked up to find two blue eyes staring at her. Her lips parted but an explanation refused to emerge.

"What are ya still doin' up?" He snarled through the dark.

Carol flinched at the sound. "I…I can't sleep…"

"Can't or won't?"

"I…" she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. For a moment she was afraid but the fear gave way as she realized something. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

She sat up, her arms folding across her chest. "Why aren't _you_ asleep?"

One of his hands was balling into a fist at his side. "Ain't easy with somebody starin' at ya," he hissed.

Carol lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."

Daryl eyed the ceiling before looking at her. "The hell is it you want?"

She was silent.

He moved onto the open sleeping bag and knelt in front of her. "Look at me; ya didn't have a problem with it a minute ago."

Taking a deep breath, Carol lifted her head. "What?"

"Ya gonna tell me what's goin' on with you? Why my tired ass is sittin' up havin' a midnight chat?"

Carol wrung her hands and looked at the wall. When she turned her head, Daryl could see a faint mark on her neck; he reached out, touching it. She shuddered as she felt his fingertips graze her skin.

"Relax," he whispered hoarsely. "Just tryin' to see how bad." His eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer.

She could feel her entire body trembling as he examined her neck…his fingertips blazing little trails of electricity along her skin. "It's fine," she said. "Just a little sore…I shouldn't of startled you like that."

Daryl frowned as he ran his thumb across the red mark one last time, making Carol close her eyes. A soft sigh passed her lips and Daryl turned away. "Sorry," he muttered.

She placed a small hand on his back, "You didn't mean it."

He stiffened and rose to leave but Carol grabbed the hem of his shirt; he spun around, his blue eyes burning into her. "What?"

Carol took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. "Stay," she whispered.

He looked down at the pale hand still clutching his shirt.

"Please," she tugged weakly at the fabric.

Daryl cursed as he sank to his knees. He glanced left and right but found no signs of movement

"They're asleep," she assured him, releasing his shirt.

He twisted around to reach his make-shift pillow. Carol watched in amazement as he placed the small bundle on what was now his half of the bed roll. Daryl finally flopped onto his back, muttering hushed curses. She noticed he was lying as close to the edge as he possibly could.

_What is he so afraid of?_

"Daryl…"

"Shut it," he said, his voice low.

A small smile spread across her face as she watched him adjust the bundle beneath his neck. She crawled across the open sleeping bag until she was at his side.

"Jesus Christ Carol; what?" he asked in exasperation.

She bent over him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered before crawling back to her side of the bed roll.

Her lips were soft, warm as they met his skin. Daryl stared at her as she pulled away and reclaimed her spot on the opposite side.

Carol's heart was racing as she dropped down and pulled the canvas bag under her head. Even though her back was to him, one hand rose to conceal the smile on her face. The joy, the life, the pure energy coursing through her veins made her feel as though she might burst apart at any moment. Without thinking, she reached back, extending an arm behind her. Fingers splayed in the empty air as she waited for contact. Seconds trickled past like beads of sweat and the pounding in Carol's chest was growing painful. She closed her eyes and continued to flex her thin fingers until she finally felt pressure. Daryl squeezed her hand and for a moment, they held the connection. Carol's fingers laced themselves with his and there, in the quiet darkness of their corner, their world…she was happy.

**I hope you enjoyed all of the moments between Daryl and Carol in this chapter : ) I try to put meaning into each interaction and hopefully you all enjoy the results! Thanks for reading : ) **


	16. Barriers

**First off….let me say I'm so, soooo sorry that this took an eternity to post! I took a trip to Philadelphia to Meet Norman, Michael and Jon at COMICON and then it was wedding stuff and then finishing moving and a new job and…just life. But I have been working hard, stealing an hour here and there to bring you chapter 16. I am in love with this story and would never abandon it unless absolutely necessarry! Thank you so much for sticking with me and for all the kind reviews for the last chapter. Let me warn you…I have not been idle this past month…there is a LOT to take in here so please…grab a snack, some water, coffee, whatever you need…and settle in because this is the longest chapter yet! While the word count is high, don't worry, it should be a fairly easy read as a huge portion of this chapter is dialogue. There IS still some action and some awesome CARYL moments but what I really wanted to convey in chapter 16 was the importance of conversation…discussion…and what it leads to. I also want to remind everyone that this fic is rated ****M****. I've pushed my boundary with this chapter and it does include certain, adult situations that I felt fit into the story. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! I've spent so long on this chapter and it's very near and dear to my heart at this point so please have fun with it and let me know what you think! ~Love Sami**

**p.s. You might want to keep a cold drink handy…there is a heat advisory in effect here ; )**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead…or do I?**

**Chapter 16: Barriers**

"You okay?" Glenn whispered, his hand resting on Maggie's shoulder.

She turned to face him, "I'm alright; tired. You?" Her words were soft, hushed.

"I'm good." He smiled weakly, watching as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "What about her?" He gestured to the sleeping girl at Maggie's side.

"Scared." Maggie frowned at the darkness. "She has a right to be."

Glenn was thoughtful as he moved closer, rubbing her arm. "At least she has you," he said, kissing her shoulder. "Patricia, Herschel…She's going to be okay."

Maggie propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him. "You think so?"

"I do," he whispered, his dark eyes shining.

She reached out for him and he held her, his hands resting on her lower back. Beth mumbled something in her sleep and Glenn began to pull away.

"Don't," Maggie pleaded.

Glenn looked over her shoulder at the young, blonde girl. The sisters were sharing a large sleeping bag and each movement Maggie made seemed to disturb the restless sleeper.

"You should get some rest; I don't know how early Rick wants to head out." He said as he placed his hand against the side of her face. The softness of it made him bite his lip and his thumb passed gently over her cheek bone. She hugged him tighter, her nails digging into his shoulder blades.

"I couldn't do this without you," she whispered into the crook of his neck.

He closed his eyes and rubbed her back. "You don't have to."

Maggie pulled back, staring into his eyes, one of her hands lightly gripping the back of his neck. His thumb was still following the curve of her cheek when she pressed her lips to his. Glenn clutched at her back when he felt her sigh into his mouth. She was warm, soft… Her nails were clawing at his neck as the kiss deepened. He stifled a moan as her lips continued to move against his, lingering, tasting…They broke the connection, both breathing hard.

"We can't," he said, his forehead resting against hers.

"I know," she breathed. Before he could think she kissed him again; her mouth was sweet and Glenn's fingers found their way into her hair, tugging as the warmth from the kiss began to spread through him. When her lips left his he slowly released the fistful of her dark hair he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Goodnight," she whispered as her hand slid from his neck.

"Night." He leaned in close, kissing her forehead.

Glenn forced himself to release her; he dropped onto his side and lay still on his small blanket. Maggie eased back down into the warmth and safety of the sleeping bag, her arm curling gently around her sister. Beth stirred slightly, tired eyes fluttering behind her lids. "Shhh," Maggie whispered, kissing her sister's hair. "I'm here." She pulled the younger girl closer, their legs intertwining within the vinyl cocoon. Beth seemed to relax at the sound of her sister's voice, a soft sigh passed her lips and the small crease in her brow disappeared. "I'm here," Maggie repeated as she watched her sister sleep. She smoothed the tangled blonde hair at Beth's temples, letting her hand linger on the young girl's face.

_We made it._

She cast one last glance over her shoulder and saw Glenn smiling at her through the dark. His eyes were kind, true as he stared at her. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and felt a smile tugging at her lips.

_We're going to be okay._

He lowered his gaze before looking back at her and those dark, kind eyes were the last things in her mind when sleep finally claimed her. Exhausted, grateful, hopeful, Maggie Greene rested her head on her arm and drifted into the soothing blackness of empty dreams; the warmth of her sister... safe, familiar...like a child's blanket that she could cling to in this dark hour. Her lips parted as she mumbled to herself...

_We're safe... safe._

At the front of the store, just to the right of the glass doors, T-Dog and Andrea sat, leaning against the cool wall.

"Man," he sighed, passing a hand over his face.

"What?" Andrea asked as she pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"Just...feel like I can't breathe sometimes."

Andrea stared at him, yawning.

"Seems like we find a place," he scratched the back of his head. "And the second anybody gets comfortable we're gone...on the road, runnin'..." He cleared his throat, elbows resting on bent knees. "Like we're just gonna come up on somethin' safe." T-Dog shook his head. "Ain't nothin' safe."

"This is okay for tonight," said Andrea as she shifted beneath the blanket, struggling to get comfortable.

"Yeah, tonight." He snorted. "That's what I'm sayin'."

Her brows knit together as she watched him.

"Tonight." He let out a heavy sigh. "What about tomorrow? We gonna be in another gas station? Hopin' geeks don't surround the place in the middle of the night?"

Andrea opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off.

"And the night after that?" He asked. "Think we're gonna find another farm?"

"I don't know," she said, letting her head fall back against the wall.

He clasped his hands and stared at the ceiling. "Me neither. I feel like we're gonna be doin' a lot of runnin'...runnin' and hidin'."

"If that's what it takes." She sighed, closing her eyes.

T-Dog leaned back, letting the wall take his weight.

"You gonna check on Rick?" Andrea said through another yawn.

"In a while. Think maybe he needs a minute."

"I think we all do," she said softly.

T-Dog gave a slow nod as he chewed his bottom lip. "Ain't gonna leave him out there too long though. All this pressure he's carryin'…man's liable to lose his shit….And this bull with Shane ain't helpin'."

Andrea cracked one eye and strained to see his face through the gloom. He met her gaze, a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

"You really worried about him?" she asked.

"You're _not_?"

She turned away, thoughtful.

As silence fell over them they could hear the others…sleeping bags being zipped, hushed voices…light footsteps down the aisles…

Andrea's head lolled to the side, her cheek resting on her shoulder. "Wake me if you need any help," she whispered "If you want me to take watch in a few hours."

"Its fine," said T-Dog. "If I need anybody I'll grab Daryl; you can rest."

She managed a weak nod as her breathing began to even out

He smirked as a realization hit him. Everybody was bedding down, claiming spots… Shane with Lori and Carl….Glenn and the Greene girls…and _Daryl_. When he'd searched the store for the hunter, T-Dog found him camped just a few feet down from Carol's sleeping bag. He shook his head as his own lids grew heavy.

"People gettin' _real_ cozy up in here," he muttered to himself, his eyes closing.

Daryl stiffened as her lips met his skin; he wanted to get away but before he could move it was over. She whispered something…

_Thank you…_

And then she was gone. His cheek burned where she'd kissed him; he reached up to touch his face, to wipe away any evidence that she'd been there but something stopped him. He turned his head and squinted through the blackness; Carol had reclaimed her end of the bedroll and was lying with her back to him. Daryl watched as she grabbed the canvas bag, using it as a crude pillow. He looked away, one hand rubbing at his eyes.

_The hell did she go and do that for?_

A heavy sigh escaped him as possible explanations began to cloud his tired mind.

_She's too damn needy._

Even as the thought formed behind his eyes he found himself facing her again. His lips parted as he saw her reaching back….

_For what?_

A crease formed in his brow as he watched her pale fingers spreading, searching for something…. Daryl looked down at his own hand and swallowed. His fingers flexed, clawing at the blanket.

_Why?_

His jaw clenched as he lifted his arm and slowly reached out. He hesitated with his fingertips inches from hers; for a moment, he considered pulling away, withdrawing into the safety of himself…But her hand was small, almost lonely in the dark…Carefully, his fingers curled around it. He could hear her sigh as he increased pressure on her hand, squeezing the soft flesh. His chest tightened when he felt her moving...thin fingers slipping between his, sliding slowly…she traced his knuckles, one by one, with tiny circular motions…her fingertips grazing the calloused skin so softly…as if she were handling something delicate…precious, savoring the texture…every fine crease, every scar…old and new….

He swallowed as she flexed her fingers, the tips easing down the valleys between his knuckles before moving back up to rest lightly on the ridges.

_ Fuck…_

Daryl stared down at the joined hands resting in the center of the sleeping bag. He frowned into the darkness…his mind struggling to process what he saw… Two hands…hers…his… Nothing extraordinary…nothing beyond the reach of basic comprehension…and yet the hunter found himself at a loss. He studied the knot of flesh and bone, this physical link between them as if it were an oddity…an undiscovered species, stumbled upon by accident…The feeling of her hand, her fingers…the way she was touching him, lightly, almost reverently…it was strange, foreign… To feel connected to her, to anything, was startling and Daryl shifted nervously on the blanket, his free hand gripping the smooth fabric. He squeezed his eyes shut, realizing that he wasn't prepared for these sensations or the thoughts that were suddenly flickering to life in his mind…glowing softly like embers.

As if she could somehow sense his discomfort, Carol released him; her fingers slipped from his and then she was gone. For a moment, his hand remained in the center of the sleeping bag where she'd left it; the warmth of her touch lingered on his skin and his fingers curled slowly into a fist, capturing the heat…holding it. He stared hard at her back, waiting, but she was silent. Daryl wasn't sure how long he lied there…quiet, confused as questions began to burn inside him. But eventually, Carol's breathing slowed and the hunter forced himself to turn away from her. He lay on his side, strained muscles relaxing as he let the tension pass his lips in a single, heavy breath. His eyes narrowed as he struggled to see through the blackness but it held no answers for him…only the muffled sounds of sleep as the others snored, muttered and shifted on their blankets.

_Lord._

Daryl chewed his lower lip.

_What was that about?_

A dull pain was forming inside his skull, like a pulse.

_Ain't worth losin' sleep over…_

He snorted, hugging himself.

_Don't go anyalyzin' every damn thing. It ain't gotta mean nothin'…_

The thoughts were of little comfort as Daryl lay on the edge of the sleeping bag, feeling utterly alone. He cursed softly into the bundle beneath his head and scooted even further from Carol, his bent knees resting on the cold linoleum. As doubt, frustration and fatigue continued to war within the cramped confines of his mind, Daryl sighed, his lids heavy as he listened to the others sleep.

Moonlight spilled in through the glass doors, pooling silver on the floor. T-Dog woke with a grunt as the cool light fell across him, forcing his eyes open. His back ached from leaning against the wall and he rubbed it, hissing.

_Damn…its gotta be three…four in the mornin'…_

He turned to his right and saw Andrea, still asleep; her head had drooped forward, her chin resting on her chest.

_Man; I gotta check on Rick…_

Carefully, quietly, T-Dog pushed himself off the ground and stood on stiff legs. He cast a quick glance around the store and was able to make out the sleeping forms of several others in the darkness. He considered waking Daryl but thought better of it. T-Dog slowly eased one door open, wincing when he heard the sharp tinkling of the bell; he heard a groan coming from the store and let the door swing closed behind him.

_Damn gas station._

The air was cool, fresh compared to the stale confines of the store. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs as he walked across the small parking lot. When he reached the pickup, T-Dog looked up to see Rick sitting on the roof.

"Hey!" He whispered hoarsely.

The deputy jerked at the sound. "Hmm?" He stared down at T-Dog with tired eyes.

"Been out here a while…thought I'd come check on ya."

Rick nodded.

T-Dog hoisted himself into the truck bed, cursing. "Tellin' me you can't see just as well from the hood?"

"It's better up here," said Rick.

"Fine," T-Dog grunted as he climbed onto the roof and slumped down beside the deputy. He rubbed the back of his neck, "You doin' alright out here?"

"So far so good," Rick sighed, his eyes on the tall trees lining the road.

"You 'bout ready for a break?"

The deputy shook his head. "Nah, I'm alright. Figure I probably couldn't sleep anyway."

"They ain't havin' any problems in there," T-Dog nodded to the store. "Like a bunch of logs."

Rick ran a hand through his dark hair. "Exhaustion. Their bodies aren't givin' em a choice."

T-Dog was silent as he scratched at a rust spot on the roof. "They trust you." He turned to face Rick.

The deputy lowered his head, frowning at the clasped hands in his lap. "Sometimes I wonder if they should."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why are these people puttin' their faith in me?" His brow furrowed as he looked at T-Dog. "I don't have the answers they need…I…" He closed his eyes, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I thought the farm was safe."

"We _all_ did."

"No," Rick said, shaking his head. "It was _my_ call." He jabbed a finger into the roof. "_I_ wanted to stay. Because of Herschel…I knew we'd need him for the baby…"

"Yeah, and they _chose _to stay with you." T-Dog glanced back at the store. "Nobody _had_ to; we chose to." He wiped at his nose. "Man, we _all_ thought that place was safe. Hell, we wanted to believe that we could get away from this." He gestured outward with his hands.

Rick nodded, rubbing at the bristle on his chin.

"Look man…" T-Dog reached out, gripping Rick's shoulder, "What happened…it ain't your fault…it's nobody's fault…just in the wrong place at the wrong time…herd that size.." He shook his head. "Ain't nothin' anybody coulda done."

The deputy's expression was stoic as he stared at the trees.

"Don't go carryin' this around…ain't your fault," T-Dog repeated, his voice firm.

"Sure feels like it." Rick rapped his knuckles on the roof.

T-Dog clapped him on the back. "I know."

They sat on the roof, watching the wood line, searching for signs of life. Rick released a heavy sigh and let his head fall into his hands. "Christ…"

"What's that?"

"What are we going to do?" Rick muttered into his hands.

T-Dog cracked his knuckles and leaned forward. "Don't know man; we'll figure somethin' out." He flicked his wrist, shaking the stiffness from his joints. "Ain't about to set up camp here," he snorted, "No matter how cozy folks are gettin'."

"What?" Rick turned, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Hm?" T-Dog clasped his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

"You sayin' they like it here?" Rick asked, a crease forming in his brow.

T-Dog chuckled, "Naw man; it's just…" He paused, peeking over his shoulder before refocusing on Rick. "I just think some of them are warmin' up to it."

The deputy's lips parted slightly as a look of confusion crossed his face; his head tilted to one side. "What are you sayin'?"

Another laugh escaped T-Dog as he stared down at his palms. "Daryl, man."

"Daryl? What about him? You think he wants to stay?" Rick's eyes narrowed.

"Naw man…Just think there's somethin' 'bout this place makes him feel…comfortable."

"I don't follow you…" said the deputy.

T-Dog bit his lip, "I went in there earlier, when everybody was stakin' claims…unloadin' their shit…"

"Yeah?" Rick nodded.

"And I go to find him, in case we need him for somethin'…." he paused, shaking his head."

"What?"

"So everbody's pairin' off…" said T-Dog, his hands raised at his sides.

"Makes sense." Rick rapped his knuckles on the roof again. "Safer that way."

"Glenn with Maggie 'n Beth…Herschel and Patricia…_that_ part makes sense." T-Dog smirked up at the sky. "So I'm thinkin' ol' ray of sunshine's gonna be off by himself somewhere."

Rick raised an eyebrow. "He wasn't?"

"But I see him," T-Dog couldn't help the laugh that burst from his lips, "Dude's camped out with Carol."

Rick's mouth quirked up into a small smile. "That right?"

"I mean…ain't like they was cuddlin' or nothin'…He had his shit a few feet from her spot…" T-Dog shrugged. "But I come 'round that aisle…and he's starin' at her…she's already sleepin'," he explained, "But I come 'round that corner and boy 'bout jumps out of his damn skin!"

It was the deputy's turn to shake his head; he chuckled softly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lord…"

"I mean, you shoulda seen it…" T-Dog wiped at his eyes. "Maybe I'm readin' too much into it but I 'bout bust out right then and there…I don't know..shit was just funny."

"That's somethin' else," said Rick as the laughter died down.

For a moment, the two men sat in silence. Cool evening air pressed against their skin making the hairs on their arms stand up. Rick shuddered as a sudden breeze dried the sweat on his brow.

T-Dog let out a long whistle, one leg dangling over the roof. "Man…"

"What?"

T-Dog's hands were splayed at his sides as he leaned back, a lazy smile creeping across his face. "What you wanna bet I go back in there…" he paused to look back at the small building. "And find him in her sleeping bag?"

Rick rolled his eyes, chuckling.

"I'm serious," T-Dog stressed. "I bet you _anything_ I find his ass in that bag."

"I don't know that it's like that…" said the deputy, his eyes on the trees. "Think maybe they just look out for each other."

"Mhmm, right," T-Dog snorted. "Some lookin' goin' on; I know that much…" he mumbled under his breath.

Above them, stars were blinking like tired eyes. The sky was a deep, bluish-black…heavy ink. A slow wind from the south was pushing gray wisps of cloud across the atmosphere and Rick looked up, sighing. "Almost makes you forget."

T-Dog turned to face him. "Hm?"

"All this," the deputy raised an arm, waving it in an arc. "Peace 'n quiet…" he frowned. "Sometimes I forget what's out there," he ran his hands down his face, stopping at his mouth.

"Think we all do," said T-Dog, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Go crazy if we didn't. It's like your mind needs a break…get away from it." He touched a finger to his left temple.

"I can't afford to," Rick closed his eyes, hands still clasped in front of his lips, as if he were praying.

"Man, you _got_ to…"

The deputy cut him off, "I _can't _let myself forget," he hissed through clenched teeth. "We were foolin' ourselves thinkin' the farm was safe…thinkin' we could find a way out of this…"

T-Dog stared at him, unsure of what to say…if he should say anything at all.

_Man's hurtin'….he needs to let it out. _

"There is no way out…" Rick muttered. "We have to live with it, deal with it…survive it." His eyes were darting wildly from the sky to the wood line…and then to T-Dog.

"Then that's what we do."

Rick seemed startled, surprised by the response; He frowned, doubtful.

"We keep movin'," T-Dog continued. "Stick together...do what we need to do.

"Yeah," Rick sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Guess so."

The two men sat on the roof of the pickup, staring out at the endless gloom, their eyes blood-shot, searching for moving shadows that neither wanted to see….

Carol was doing her best to lie still as she began counting in her head…

_One, two, three…_

When she got to three, she released the breath she'd been holding. She bit the inside of her cheek, wondering when the simple act of breathing had become so complicated.

_ One, two, three…_

Her chest rose and fell as the warm air left her lungs. She wasn't sure how convincing the forced rhythm was but since sleep seemed beyond her reach for the moment, Carol at least wanted to _seem _like she was sleeping. The farce was proving difficult to maintain.

_One, two, three…_

She'd been reluctant to release Daryl's hand but his tension had been palpable, leaving her no choice. Carefully, she lifted one hand to her mouth, her fingertips on her lower lip.

_He let me touch him…_

She inhaled the trace of his scent from her fingertips, gasoline and sweat. Her mouth grew dry and she slowly brought her knees to her chest, toes curling as she lay in the fetal position.

_ One, two, three…_

Carol couldn't, didn't want to sleep. A sudden surge of energy was coursing through her veins, the blood growing hot just beneath her skin.

_God…_

She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he was _there_...mere feet away. She reached out with one hand, touching the cool linoleum. Carol sighed as her fingers splayed on the floor, seeking relief from the heat that seemed to seep from his body and spread across the blanket like wild fire, causing sweat to glisten on her arms…at her temples. She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut tight; a salty droplet slid below her jaw, tickling as it trailed down her smooth neck.

_ One, two, three…_

The breath was strained as guilt began to stab at her chest. He _saved _her… _grieved_ with her on the highway, dutifully bearing witness to a moment of raw, sacred sadness that she knew she never could have shared with anyone else…He'd reached out, taking her hand…holding it in the dark…and he was here now, a reluctant guardian…the only barrier between her and the hell that lurked somewhere beyond the glass doors…

She could feel tears welling behind her eyes. All of this…_All _of this he'd done for her…And here she was, her body curled on the open sleeping bag, the smooth material sticking to her damp skin. The things he'd done for her, whether consciously or otherwise…_those_ acts were pure….A strange word to pair with the brooding hunter but Carol could think of no other… The realization only served to worsen the ache of guilt in her chest. She should be thankful, sleeping…enjoying the feeling of safety…of security that he was providing…but she couldn't; her nails clawed at the floor.

_One, two…_

Her breaths grew shorter.

_This is wrong…_

She bit her lip, fighting to contain a curse. She couldn't sleep; she couldn't relax…enjoy this closeness… Physical sensations and mangled thoughts battled for her attention, keeping her painfully awake. With each passing moment, the heat seemed to grow worse, stifling… She wanted to get up…to move…push open the glass doors and let cool, night air drive the fever from her…but Carol's body would not allow her to leave the agonizing warmth of their shared space.

Her eyes eased open, narrowing as she stared at her fingertips in the dark.

_Why did he let me?_

She recalled the feel of his skin as she'd slid her fingers slowly between his. A heavy sigh escaped her and she pulled her knees further into her chest, trying desperately to keep herself together…and in the next instant wanting nothing more than to let go…to fall apart and watch the invisible walls crumble around her. There was a sharp twinge behind Carol's eyes and she began to twist and writhe on the blanket.

_ Stop._

The word seemed faded, devoid of meaning…as if it had been scribbled quickly inside her skull, the ink running as her thoughts churned. She groaned softly into the blanket and tugged at the cross around her neck. She clenched her teeth as the gold chain dug into her flesh.

_Don't do this…_

An involuntary shiver licked its way up her spine and she sucked in a sharp breath, hoping the sudden movement hadn't disturbed him.

_Him…_

She jerked at the fine, gold chain, wincing as it bit into her skin. The pain was good…necessarry… Her neck burned where the chain was pulled tight; the tiny cross was slick with sweat in her palm. Carol's eyes widened as she realized that every sense was magnified; her tongue slid across her lower lip and she could taste stale sweat in the air. Someone…Herschel, was snoring two aisles down…The linoleum was so smooth, shining in the moonlight and refreshingly cool beneath her fingertips…and_ him_… his presence was…_heavy_…the only solid thing in the room…he was everything and all Carol wanted was to touch him again….to give in to the unrelenting force that was constantly drawing her to him like light to a diamond.

_It's wrong…_

The pain behind her eyes grew worse as she heard him shift on the blanket.

_Why is he always so close? He's everywhere…even when he's gone…he's here…why?_

She began to feel smothered by the unanswered questions that were filling up the space between them.

_What do I do?_

Carol's muscles were tensing as she pleaded within the safety of her own mind. Despite the blackness surrounding her, vivid images flashed before Carol's eyes; she could see, with startling clarity, what she _wanted_ to do…what her body wanted…_needed_… She saw herself turning, moving…closing the distance. She covered her mouth with one hand to contain a soft groan but the silent film in her head continued to play. Some bolder, imagined version of herself was gripping Daryl's shoulder, making him face her.

_ God…_

Carol pictured his eyes, blue, hard…looking, seeing into the deepest parts of her…then closing as one of her pale legs slid between his, her knee coming to rest just below his groin…

_Stop! This isn't helping you! That's not what this is…He's not…_

The thought unraveled like a bit of tangled string and Carol was left with a terrible burning low in her stomach. She ran a hand through her hair, nails scratching at her scalp. She bit her lip, wishing her hair were longer just so she might enjoy the release that comes with pulling it. But there was no release…no outlet for the waves of energy rippling through her. All Carol could do was lie on the blanket, a single knuckle held lightly between her teeth as she struggled to remain still.

Daryl was trapped in the strange purgatory between sleep and consciousness. His lips were parted slightly and heavy lids fluttered, revealing eyes glazed by exhaustion.

"_Don't…_Ya gotta res_…"_

The words were slurred as he mumbled them into the dark. He adjusted the soft bundle under his neck and forced his eyes to close.

"Jus sleep…" he whispered to himself. "Jus…quit thinkin'…'n sleep."

Sounds grew faint and the aches in his bones were numbed as he began to drift quietly into the world of dreams. Strange shapes began twisting into life, rising up out of the thick, blackness surrounding him. His weary mind could not grasp what they were…

_Walkers?_

A lone figure was slowly emerging from the seemingly endless expanse of darkness….the edges of its silhouette quivered as if the thing were fluid, black…a liquid shadow.

_What are…?_

But the half-formed specter melted suddenly, its body returning to the oozing ether from which it was born.

Daryl jerked and sat up with a snort; he rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. When he looked around, the hunter realized that the world he'd woken to was as dark as that which he'd been pulled from. He blinked as his mind attempted to grasp the jarring leap from his murky dream to the present.

_Lord…_

He sat rubbing his eyes until a strange sound caught his ear; Daryl froze when he heard it again. He turned to his right, brows knitting together as he processed the sound.

_She groanin'?_

He stared through the gloom at Carol's back; the sound reached him again and he watched her as she moved. The motions were small..a slight twitching of the shoulder, legs shifting, slipping past one another…one arm tightening its grip around her knees… Daryl blinked when he heard her whimper.

_ Cryin'?_

He scratched at his jaw, wondering what to do.

_ Woman needs to quit…_

The hunter turned away and tried to ignore the soft sounds coming from her but he couldn't. Every muffled moan, every little sigh seemed amplified…even her movements disturbed him…sending minute vibrations across the blanket. He could feel, sense her body as it twisted in the dark…as if she were plagued with restlessness.

_The hell is her problem?_

Daryl snorted derisively, hugging himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to catch sleep by the tail as it continued to slip past him but then she groaned again, the sound resonating within the walls of his mind.

_ Fuck…_

He clenched his teeth as he rolled over to face her.

"Carol," he whispered hoarsely.

She stiffened, the breath catching in her throat as she heard him call her name. One knuckle was still trapped between her teeth and she bit down harder, not knowing what to do.

"Hey," he called softly, his voice gruff from sleep…or a lack thereof.

Carol's eyes widened as she realized that she'd stopped breathing….

_ Well…he knows you're awake now…_

"Hm?" She mumbled, releasing her aching knuckle.

"What are ya doin'?"

Carol hesitated as she considered whether or not to face him.

"Hey!" He hissed, impatient.

"What?" she snapped, hugging her knees.

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he stared at her back. "Will ya turn around?"

She huffed as she rolled onto her opposite side, her eyes locking on his, "What?" She repeated, frowning.

"Why ain't ya sleepin'?"

Carol propped herself up one elbow as she processed the question. Her eyes scanned the ceiling and she bit her lip.

"I'm waitin'," he rapped his knuckles on the blanket, feeling the hard floor underneath.

She had to stop herself from shaking her head as the only logical answer came to mind.

_You._

"I don't know," she shrugged, lowering her gaze."Why aren't you?"

Daryl's brows knit together as he studied her. "Because your ass is over there makin' too much damn noise."

Carol was at a loss. Her cheeks burned as she struggled to summon a response. "Sorry," she whispered, rubbing her arm.

The hunter was silent for a moment, his eyes going from the blanket to her face. "Somethin' botherin' ya?"

She looked up at him and nodded.

Daryl was silent, unsure why he'd even asked.

_Now what? Just fuckin' drop it...leave her be...move...sleep, she should be sleepin'; you should be sleepin'..._

Despite the string of frustrated thoughts in his head, the hunter cleared his throat, urging her to continue.

She chewed her lower lip, her finger tracing a circle on the blanket.

Daryl rubbed at his nose and yawned.

"I just..." Carol shook her head, a crease forming in her brow.

"Hm?" He stared at her through the strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes.

She sighed, her eyes roaming from the floor, to the ceiling before finally resting on him.

"What?" He grunted as he raised one hand before letting it drop back to the blanket in exasperation.

"Nothing; it's not important." She eased onto her back, hands clasped over her chest.

Daryl's lips parted slightly in confusion. "It's enough to keep ya from sleepin' in the safest damn place we're likely to find for a while..."

Her thumbs rubbed together as she continued to bite her lip.

"Fine," he muttered as he rolled onto his stomach; he reached out for the bundled blanket, pulling it under his chin. Just as he felt his lids drooping, Carol's voice forced them open again.

"Christ," he groaned, one hand forming a fist at his side.

"I'm not..." She paused, blinking up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure that it would help..."

Daryl glanced sideways at her, arching an eyebrow.

"To talk about it," she explained, bringing one hand to rest on her forehead.

The hunter squeezed his eyes shut, wondering why he'd even bothered to initiate the conversation.

_Can't let well enough alone... _

"How do ya know?" He mumbled into his makeshift pillow.

"What?" She looked over at him, one hand still draped across her forehead.

"Said how d'ya know," he grunted, his voice thick with exhaustion, "'less ya try?"

Carol's lips parted then closed as she processed his words.

"Ain't sayin' spill your guts or nothin'," he shifted on the blanket, his shoulder blades moving beneath his shirt.

She began to tug at the small cross resting on her chest.

"Jus...say whatever it is ya need to say so your ass can go to sleep." He yawned again, creases forming at the corners of his eyes.

She watched as he held the soft bundle under his chin, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he gripped it. Carol licked her dry lips as she imagined running a hand along his arm, feeling the hair, the skin, drifting up and over the curve of his bicep and clutching his shoulder... "It's...hard..." she said slowly as she continued to stare at him.

Daryl ran a rough hand over his face and sighed.

"I don't even know that I could really..." she stopped when he lifted his head to look at her, his blue eyes narrowing.

"Really what?" He whispered hoarsely.

"Explain it." She tore her gaze away and focused on a stain on the ceiling.

The hunter held the soft bundle tighter, burying his face in it. "Figures."

"I..." She sat up again, clutching her knees for support. "I'm just...dealing with something right now..." her eyes were closed, the crease in her brow deepening, "And I don't really know how..." She let her forehead fall forward onto her knees. "It's hard." The words were muffled as she spoke into her knees.

Daryl stared at her, utterly at a loss. One dirty fingernail clawed at the linoleum as he struggled to form a response. "Think we're all dealin' with stuff," he said as he pushed the hair out of his eyes. "Hell," he snorted, "Buncha dead people just ran us off that farm and we're sleepin' in a gas station in the middle of nowhere...That shit's hard."

"I know," Carol sighed, her own breath warm against her skin. "I know..."

"Whatever it is you got rollin' around in your head...it ain't as bad as all this." He gestured outward with his hand.

"I didn't say it was bad," she whispered, "Just...hard. Complicated."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Complicated? Way I see it, life's gettin' to be pretty damn simple; kill walkers; keep runnin'."

Carol lifted her head and eyed him, a critical expression on her face. "That's how you see things? Just black and white?" she asked.

"I'm sayin', whatever it is," he slapped the back of his hand into his palm, "Un-complicate it." His eyes were trained on her.

"I...don't think I can," she said as she looked away.

"You sayin' there's nothin' that'll help?"

She brought a finger to her lip and began to chew the nail, "I told you...it's.."

"Yeah, he snorted, "Complicated; I got that part."

"You don't..." Carol whispered.

"Think I do," he hissed. "I think you're just up bitchin' about somethin' ya got no plans to fix. Ya figure if your ass can't sleep ya gotta keep me up with ya."

"You asked!" Carol snapped as she turned around to face him, her blue eyes burning as she glared at him.

"My mistake!" He growled back at her.

"You asked what was wrong and I was trying to tell you, thinking you might be capable of having a real conversation but..." Carol was spitting the words at him; she was on her knees now, hands gesturing wildly as she spoke.

"_I'm_ the one that can't talk to people? You ain't actually said a single, god damned thing! Speakin' in damn riddles..." He began balling the blanket in a tight fist as he spoke.

"Riddles?!" She sat with her mouth open, incredulous. "_You're_ the one that doesn't talk; you never say what it is you're thinking...none of us even have a clue what.."

"This ain't about me," he snarled, gripping the fabric tighter in his sweaty palm.

Carol stared at him as valid responses trickled quickly out of her brain like water from a cracked vase.

"You're right," she said, shaking her head, "it's not. It's about me; this is _my_ problem and I have no business dragging anyone else into it; forget I said anything." Her hands fell to her thighs.

"So that's it then?" Daryl watched her face.

"What do you want from me Daryl?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

The hunter looked down at his clenched fist; the knuckles had turned white...he was gripping the blanket so hard. "Nothin'...straight answer maybe..."

"Because you know _all_ about those," she said dismissively as she moved to turn away from him.

Daryl's temper flared, his hand shooting out, strong fingers digging into her shoulder.

Carol stared at him with wide eyes. "What?!" She hissed through clenched teeth as her hand went to his wrist.

"When you gonna quit turnin' this around on me?"

She swallowed hard, feeling his fingertips press into her skin. Her hand tightened around his wrist as she struggled to pry him away.

"I asked you somethin'." He licked his lips, panting.

She grunted, forcing his hand away. "Whenever you quit pushing me," she said between heavy breaths. His hand fell with a thud to the blanket when she released it. They were silent, each waiting for the blood to stop pounding in their ears. Carol brushed her shoulder, adjusting her shirt. Daryl withdrew his hand as if he'd been stung.

_God_...

Carol placed a hand over her mouth to contain a groan. Beads of sweat had formed at her temples, between her breasts...her heart was straining against her ribs. She closed her eyes, toes digging into the blanket.

_What are we doing?_

Her chest rose and fell with each labored breath; she shuddered as a drop of sweat slipped down past her breasts, disappearing in her belly button. As she refocused her senses, Carol realized that her legs were shaking, her entire body trembling, alive with nervous energy, vibrating... She inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm herself and the effort made her lungs hurt.

_One, two, three..._

Her shoulders slumped as she slowly let the breath pass her lips.

_God..._

She rubbed her neck as she rolled it.

_That was... _

Carol's eyes flew open as a realization hit her...one hand remained clamped over her mouth as she turned to glance at the hunter... He still lay on his stomach but was propped on his elbows. His head hung low as he rubbed his wrist...the one she'd grabbed... Her eyes moved over his body, she could see him shifting slightly with each breath. A light sheen of sweat was glistening on his arms...even his hair seemed damp and Carol felt another shudder course through her as she felt the tension rolling off of him in waves.

_He felt it..._

She forced herself to look away from the brooding hunter...away from the shirt that was clinging to the center of his back, away from the shoulder blades that stood out beneath the thin material.

As she fought to control her breathing, Carol began replaying the argument in her mind. She remembered the way his eyes had cut through the darkness, making her weak despite the anger simmering beneath her skin. The way his upper lip had curled back as he snapped at her...his tongue sliding quickly along his lower lip as his breaths grew ragged... She blinked several times, pushing the images to the back of her mind. The tension...his, hers, winding, twisting, gleaming wires ensnaring them, hard gears, one grinding mercilessly against the other...her own frustration...mental, physical...a rasping voice echoing in her head, goading her...driving her towards him...pulling hot words from her lips... Even as their argument still hung in the stale air around them, bitter on the tongue, acrid like smoke...Carol found herself wanting more. Even in the gloom she could feel that her face was flushed, warm to the touch...Every part of her was warm...overwhelmed by the exchange, she fell onto her back, the heels of her hands going to her eyes...pressing as she tried to relax. The warm blood churning inside her was making rational thought difficult and all Carol could think of was what she could possibly say to get him to snarl at her again...

Daryl massaged his wrist where her tiny hand had wrapped around him.

_Thinks she can just go spoutin' shit like that..._

He twitched as the anger inside him continued to claw and scramble for release like a trapped animal.

_Screw her..._

There was movement in his peripheral vision and he turned to see her falling back onto the blanket, her hands pressed into her eyes. She sighed, her back arching...lifting. Daryl sucked in a sharp breath as he watched her.

_The hell is she doin'...sighin'..._

He snorted.

_She's poutin'_

Despite the aggravation that lingered, stifling, hot on his skin, under it...in his veins, the hunter didn't look away. His eyes followed the length of her pale legs...from her waist...up the slope of her thighs, pausing on her knees...back down, sliding along her shins to her feet. He squinted and saw that her toes were curled, digging into the blanket beneath her. A muffled hiss escaped him as he realized what he was doing; he shifted awkwardly, tempted to get up but as he placed his palms flat on the sleeping bag to push himself off the ground, he paused.

_Fuck…_

He slowly lowered himself back down, cursing under his breath. Somewhere, between the jagged words they'd flung at each other...between the panting and her eyes on his...after her waist and before her toes...hot, red blood had rushed from his brain...moving in waves, lower...the pounding of his heart had forced it down, further...lower...lower, below his navel, his belt...He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he felt the painful tightness in his groin.

_The fuck are ya doin'?_ _Your ass better breathe…_

But he made the mistake of looking up...looking at her...Sweat shone on her chest, along the smooth ridge of her collarbone, in the well of her throat.

_Quit._

Daryl nearly jerked when he heard her hiss. Her palms were still pressed to her eyes, teeth causing her lower lip to swell. Beads of sweat glistened quietly in the moonlight, holding his gaze. He found himself staring at her mouth, at her lip...the way she was biting it, like she was holding on...fighting something...struggling...

_Stop_.

The word seemed to burst the moment it entered his mind...vanish...like a cool drop of water hitting a hot plate...sizzling out of existence...a tiny breath of steam swallowed up into the air...His eyes continued to follow the moisture on her skin...a slick path from her throat to her chest, up the swell of her breasts, over, down...

He was staring at her stomach now, watching it tighten as she breathed, a small grunt escaped him when her back arched...he saw the curve of her spine as she inhaled...he could almost feel, hear the muscles relaxing when she sighed. Despite the deep breaths she was taking, Daryl knew that her body was still wracked with tension, that it clung to her with thick claws, refusing to let go, reaching in, holding her by the bones... His eyes narrowed to blue slits as he imagined extending an arm, laying the flat of his hand on her tight stomach and feeling everything that trembled inside her...His lips parted...his fingers were beginning to twitch...

_Her stomach..._

He wanted to feel it...to feel her body rise and fall beneath his palm...to see if her skin burned the way he imagined...to trace the grooves alongside her navel...where the skin was warm...where it had to be... He licked his lips...fingers curling into a fist.

Realizing that their argument was the only release she was likely to get Carol let her hands fall to her sides. When she opened her eyes, the blood froze in her veins. Daryl was staring hard at her waist...trained on her. Afraid to move, she simply allowed her brows to knit together as she watched him watching her. She swallowed

_What?_

As if he'd heard her, Daryl looked up suddenly his eyes locking on hers. She managed to prop herself up slowly on her elbows as she stared, the expression on her face questioning him.

Without any answers to give her, the hunter cleared his throat, dropping his gaze.

_Look at me_, Carol pleaded with her eyes.

That feeling, sharp, magnetic...it drew him back, made him lift his chin...forced him to look. Neither was sure what to do...to say...if they should say anything...They simply remained trapped, paralyzed by each other...their heavy breathing the only sound...Carol leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees..her eyes never leaving his.

Daryl wiped the sweat from his upper lip, "Ya want me to leave?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

She studied him, the side of her face resting against her knees. "No," she whispered.

He looked away, running a hand through his hair.

"Stay," she breathed, one hand moving slowly to the blanket, fingers splaying over the smooth fabric.

Daryl paused, his fingers still tangled in his hair. He glanced sideways at her, his eyes going from her face to her hand...it was resting on the blanket, fingers spread... like a pale starfish on black sand. She followed his gaze and they both stared in silence, considering the space between them. Carol sighed, her fingertips flexing...

Daryl felt himself stiffen at the sound, at her scent...somehow she smelled warm. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, pushing back the damp hair. His own toes were beginning to curl in his boots as he tried to think of something else...anything..._anything_...

"Daryl?"

"Hmm? Wha?" He said as he looked up at her.

"You okay?"

He cleared his throat, focusing on his knuckles. The hunter slowly drug his thumb over the ridges, stopping when he reached his middle finger...he rubbed the knuckle, feeling the change in texture where a cut was healing. His mouth was a tight line as he stared down at the scab...he stared at it so hard his head hurt...but it wasn't what he saw. The only thing he saw was her...

"Hey," Carol whispered as she turned her body towards him.

Daryl's eyes closed in frustration as blood continued to rush to his groin.

_Fuck..._

He jerked when he felt her fingertips on his shoulder. "Hey," she said again, her eyes searching his face. "You okay?"

He stared at where she was touching him before slowly lifting his chin to meet her gaze. He wanted to say something but when he groped for words in the recesses of his mind, they seemed to slip away, melting.

Carol let her hand linger on him, savoring the heat of his skin...the warmth, this slight contact was incredible but it was nearly eclipsed when he looked at her. His eyes seemed, different...darker...she felt herself going weak, powerless as those eyes held her in place...it was almost like a physical touch...the quiet, burning focus beneath his lashes. She blinked, her lips parting as he craned his neck, staring at her hand again...her hand on his shoulder... Carol felt color spreading across her face and silently thanked God for the darkness. She knew she should let go, release him...but something stronger than her doubt made her hold on. Her slender fingers began pressing into his skin...She forced herself to keep looking at him as her thumb began to gently rub his arm. Carol watched him; he seemed transfixed by her hand, his eyes glued to her thumb.

_I don't know what you want…_

Possibilities flickered to life in her mind like colored lights, some brighter than others...but she didn't know...she was in a daze. Suddenly… his name on her tongue..."Daryl?" Her thumb stopped moving, making him look at her.

The hunter found himself trapped...trapped in this strange, dark moment with her...quiet heat surrounding them, smothering... He clenched his jaw as he fought to stay still. Briefly, he considered getting up, moving...but he knew he couldn't...at least...he thought he shouldn't...But as her grip on him slowly tightened, Daryl stopped thinking...all he knew was what he could feel, smell... Warm, rich, blood coursing through him...pouring into his groin, making his entire body tense.

_Christ..._

He looked up when he heard his name, a small word, caught for an instant between her lips. Carol stopped breathing when his eyes found hers. Her mouth grew dry as she tried to decipher the meaning behind those icy, blue slits. There was something there, something close to anger...unnerving, fascinating.

His skin was damp beneath her fingertips, and her nails began to dig in...to hold on...a small shiver licked its way up Carol's spine as she realized this connection, however small, was the only thing that mattered. Rational thought disappeared from her mind as he held her gaze. Her resolve...her fears...they mingled, churning inside her until they quietly broke down into unrecognizable fragments. All that remained was her want...but it wasn't want anymore...it was need...or maybe it always had been...Carol didn't know but they were there, together, struggling through a stolen hour of the night...or the morning? Her lips parted; he wasn't touching her...only allowing himself to be touched. His eyes were locked on her face but she could feel the effects elsewhere, everywhere. A flush was creeping up her neck, the heat seeming to reach her brain. She released a trapped breath as she felt a sharp twinge of pain in the deepest part of her. As Carol's chest slowly rose and fell she knew...it was need. She could almost hear the nerves vibrating with tension as she lightly clawed his shoulder.

_It's not enough_...

She steeled herself, inching closer to him. He watched her, undaunted by the closeness. The muscles in her stomach tightened and she wondered for a moment if he felt anything when she looked at him.

_He has to… He has to know..._

They were still...each grappling with their own demons...neither wanting...knowing how to break the silence that had fallen over them like snow...like ash, choking them.

Daryl bit his lip, eyes leaving hers as his hand moved hesitantly across the blanket...stiff, slow...like a blind animal...unsure of its movements. He reached out until his fingertips were resting a mere inch from her knee. But he paused, afraid to breach whatever barrier remained between them...if one remained at all...

Carol saw his hand move; she did her best to keep her breathing even as he stopped before reaching her leg.

_One, two, three…_

Energy, like a thick current...clicking and snapping with static, electricity moved between them, through them, twisting...making them stare, blue into deeper blue...their irises, four discs of sharp color cutting through the gloom. The unseen flow of heat and life continued to crackle and hum as the world shrunk around them...it was only her and him now. Carol's hand seemed to move on its own, sliding slowly down his arm, the muscle was rigid, tight...she felt the pain inside her intensify as he continued to stare.

_I...want this...want you..._

The unspoken words were heavy on her tongue

_I need it..._

She held her breath until her chest started to burn. Daryl's fingers were twitching, flexing just beyond her knee making her skin tingle in anticipation.

_Touch me..._

Carol opened her mouth, ready to voice the last, strained thought pounding in her head like a steady beat, a pulse...

The hunter felt the hair at the base of his neck stand up when her hand began to move, her fingertips tracing the line of his muscle, her palm slick as it slid down. He was torn between the feeling of her fingers on him, the itching in his own hand as he fought the urge to touch her and the tension in his groin...the maddening rush of heat and hardness that he was struggling to conceal...the pain of keeping himself pressed down into the blanket, smothered...

_Fuck._

Daryl didn't know what she was doing...why she was touching him...all he knew was that he didn't want her to stop. Her knee was so close...it looked soft, pale like the rest of her. He bit the inside of his cheek as he imagined touching her, cupping her knee in his palm before sliding up her thigh, thumb and fingers spreading to feel, to touch as much skin as he could. He wanted to move up, pressing and squeezing...slip under her shorts...keep moving until he reached the top of her leg...and he'd hold her...his thumb pressed into the groove on the inside of her thigh while his fingers clutched the curve of her hip...he'd stay...feeling the warmth there...the heat he knew he would find there...he'd feel her pulse..her heart pushing blood through her body, sending it down, lower, with each contraction...down to where he touched her...that's where he'd find it...heat and blood...beneath his palm, traveling up his fingertips...like kindling...a thin branch held to a fire...a single flame jumping, licking up the length of the twig, consuming it. Hungry, frustrated, Daryl lifted his heavy hand from the blanket, his eyes were clouded with want, locked on hers as his fingers hovered in the dark, curling defensively as he moved towards her knee...

"Hey," someone whispered hoarsely.

Daryl saw Carol's eyes widen in fear, her pupils dilating as her hand fell away. In an instant, the strange voice stripped every image, every thought of warm skin and softness violently from his mind, making him wince. Carol nearly stumbled as she backed away from him, her heart beating frantically in her chest...the rhythm so fast it was choking her. Daryl quickly pulled his hand back, hiding it under his makeshift pillow where it balled into an angry fist. His eyes slammed shut as he hid his face in the soft bundle. Seeing that she would receive no help from the hunter, Carol rubbed at her nose and cleared her throat. "Hmm? What?" her voice cracked.

_It's dark, maybe she didn't...I'm sure she didn't see anything...there was nothing to see._

Andrea stood, with a blanket draped around her shoulders, and stared down at them.

_What is going on?_

She squinted through the gloom and looked from one to the other.

_Carol? Daryl…?_

Her tired mind fumbled with the thought of what she may or may not have just stumbled upon. Andrea pulled the blanket tighter around her arms. "Sorry if I scared you it's just..." She shifted awkwardly on her feet, her eyes darting around the dark store. "Thought I heard arguing..."

Carol attempted to smooth her hair. "Yeah, we..." she glanced at Daryl and realized she needed an explanation. "Daryl and I were just debat...discussing the plan to..." she shrugged and waved the rest of her story away. "It's nothing...not important; I'm sorry we woke you."

"It's fine," Andrea yawned. "Not like I was getting the best sleep anyway."

Daryl was muttering curses into his pillow as he waited for the pain in his groin to subside.

"Feel like some air?" The blonde woman asked as she looked back at the store windows.

Carol placed her hands on her thighs, "Yeah; sure. It's a little warm in here." She sighed as she stood up. "Rick still out there?"

"I think him and T-Dog both are; we should probably check on them." said Andrea; Carol nodded.

The two women made their way to the front of the store, making sure to step lightly so as not to disturb the others. As they rounded the nearest aisle, Carol cast a quick glance back at Daryl; he was lying perfectly still and she wondered if Andrea really had interrupted something...

Cool air rushed to greet them as they pushed the glass door open.

"God." The word slipped from Carol's lips before she could think to contain it.

Andrea looked back at her, one blonde eyebrow arched. "You okay?"

Carol rubbed awkwardly at the back of her neck, "Yeah, it's just... I didn't realize how warm it was in there."

Andrea studied her friend as they walked slowly across the small parking lot. Sweat shone on Carol's arms, her chest, her forehead...even above her upper lip.

_It wasn't that warm...was it?_

Her mind drifted back to how she'd found them...

_them_…

She ran a hand through her hair. "I really am sorry."

Carol looked up, "Hm?"

"Back there," Andrea gestured to the building. "I wasn't trying to spook anyone."

"It's fine...we shouldn't have been arguing."

The younger woman dropped her gaze, kicking absently at the gravel. "Thought you said it was a discussion."

Carol sighed, hugging herself.

"Forget I mentioned it," Andrea said as she placed a hand on Carol's arm before walking ahead toward the truck.

"No, you didn't...it's not...wait..."

Andrea stopped, a half-smile forming on her face as she stood with her back to Carol. "Yeah?" She glanced over her shoulder.

Carol's eyes darted from the pickup in the distance back to the blonde woman in front of her, she motioned with her hand for Andrea to come closer.

"What?"

"Just come here," Carol whispered as she made her way to the opposite end of the parking lot, where she could speak without being overheard by the two men on watch.

When she reached the last, lonely car, she leaned against the driver's side door, arms folding across her chest. She stared hard at the ground, a nervous giggle nearly escaping her as she realized she was barefoot again... Andrea stood beside her, yawning, as she leaned back, letting the cold metal hold her up. After a few moments of heavy silence, she released a slow whistle, her eyes going to Carol's face. "So..."

"So..." Carol echoed, the word hanging in the evening air.

Andrea pulled the blanket tight around her arms, waiting, but her friend wasn't speaking. "So...what was all that? Why were you arguing?"

Carol took a deep breath, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I couldn't sleep."

"I can sympathize," Andrea said, a soft smile on her lips.

"I was tossing and turning...which was keeping him up...I don't know...I just couldn't relax...you know how sometimes," her hands rose, hovering on either side of her head, "Your mind is going faster than you are..."

Andrea nodded.

"And..." Carol blinked as she searched for the right words, "And...it's as if...you can't flip that switch that lets you sleep...because your brain is convinced that there is something more important...something urgent that you need to figure out before your body will shut down..." She paused, glancing at Andrea.

"Yeah; I think I know the feeling."

Carol continued to stare at her, gauging her features...her expression.

"Well, apparently...it was...I..." she placed a hand on her chest, "...was so disruptive that he decided to start a conversation by asking me what was wrong."

"Daryl wanted to talk?" Andrea snorted, "That's different."

"I know." Carol rolled her eyes.

"But how did this lead to an argument?" Andrea considered asking why the hunter had been sleeping on her friend's sleeping bag in the first place but thought better of it.

"God," Carol sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Do we need to stop? Looks like this might be a sensitive topic for you." Andrea turned her head, coughing into her own shoulder.

"No...I mean, it is, but..." her hands were clasped above her head. "I need to talk about it...get it out..."

Andrea waited.

Carol chewed her lip as she thought about how to continue. She started to pace, hands tucked under her arms as she crossed back and forth in front of the blonde woman.

"Remember when we were on the roof together?"

"Who? You and me?" Andrea asked, her head tilting to one side.

Carol sighed in exasperation, "Yes; you and me, on watch that afternoon..."

Andrea nodded, "Of course; what about it?"

"We were talking..."

"Yeah?"

"And as I recall..." Carol paused to stare at the ground; her feet looked so pale, ghostly in the dark. "We were talking...and I feel that I came very close to sharing some concerns with you but..."

"We were interrupted," Andrea added, "By Daryl."

"By the men getting back from the run," Carol corrected, an edge in her voice.

"Right; I'm sorry...that's what I meant."

Carol's eyes narrowed as she resumed pacing. "So we were interrupted..."

"But it was Daryl you were talking to."

Carol felt herself bristling.

"You walked back to camp together..and didn't you two stop and have a chat by his tent?"

"What are you getting at?"

Andrea fought to keep the smirk off her face as she looked away. "Nothing; I'm just telling you what I remember."

Carol frowned, her eyes narrowing. "As I was saying..."

"What are you saying Carol? What are you afraid of?"

Carol's lips parted as she stood frozen, taken aback by her friend's question.

"I mean...it's just us." Andrea looked from the truck in the distance to the small building before finally focusing on Carol. "Not a big group in case you haven't noticed...and it seems to be getting smaller all the time..." her voice grew soft as she lowered her gaze. "I would think after the farm, after Amy...Sophia..." she was whispering now, "That you'd trust me...that we've been through enough...Do you really not think you can talk to me? What are you afraid of?" She asked again, her green eyes locked on her friend.

There was silence as Carol attempted to process Andrea's words.

The night seemed to breathe around them, chirping...clicking as insects and frogs called out to each other from hidden places in the grass.

"I...I'm sorry.." Carol whispered, allowing herself to lean against the car.

Andrea reached over, taking her friend's hand. "Carol," she sighed, "I wasn't trying to make it worse...whatever it is...I just...I wanted to know because I thought maybe I could help...if you need help." She gave Carol's hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, "If you don't want to talk about it...you don't have to."

The two women stood beneath the stars, a deep understanding passing between them...the secret kinship of survivors.

"I don't think I've ever been like this," said Carol, her words hushed.

"Like what?"

"Cryptic." Carol laughed softly, shaking her head.

Andrea's brows knit together, "So what changed?"

"Well, the world ended..."

Andrea snorted, "Yeah."

"And..." The laughter died on Carol's lips and the light in her eyes seemed to fade. "I lost everything...the only thing that mattered...that _ever_ mattered...I lost her." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before it could fall.

The blonde woman opened her mouth to speak but Carol stopped her.

"I know we all lost people..." she sniffed, "But this was my _child_," her chin was quivering now. "My _life_..." She hugged herself tighter, searching the night sky for answers. "I didn't think..." Carol paused, her voice cracking; she cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders. "I didn't think that anything would matter...after the barn..." Her eyes were growing glassy as she turned to face Andrea. "I didn't think it was possible for anything..._anyone_ to matter." She wiped away another tear as everything inside her began to churn and tremble.

"Carol..." The younger woman reached out but Carol stepped back, ashamed. Andrea eyed her, confused, hurt by the look on her friend's face.

"I don't know what it is," Carol laughed through the fresh tears shining in her eyes, hands raised at her sides. "I really don't," she shook her head as she pushed herself away from the car. "I don't know if I'm losing it...or...if...I'm just afraid of the idea of facing this alone..." She gestured at the darkness surrounding them. "I don't know why...but.." she turned away, hiding her face...the words were caught in her throat...she couldn't breathe.

"Daryl." Andrea said softly.

Carol spun around suddenly, her red eyes burning into her friend. "What?"

"He matters...doesn't he?" Andrea stared hard at the woman in front of her.

Carol's mind raced as she frantically tried to decide whether she should be angry...defensive...honest... She turned away but could still feel Andrea's eyes on her back.

_I can't say it...not with her looking at me..._

She bit her lip, eyes slammed shut...a single tear slipped like a jewel from beneath her lashes.

"Yes." She breathed, a shudder passing through her with the admission.

Andrea blinked, somewhat incredulous. "Carol?"

"He matters." She sniffed, her chest tightening.

Andrea's expression softened as she took a step towards Carol and then another, quickly closing the gap.

Carol covered her face as Andrea pulled her into an awkward embrace.

"It's okay," the younger woman whispered as she felt Carol shake in her arms.

"No..." Carol shook her head, sniffing, "It's _not_."

"It _is_," Andrea said softly as she rubbed her friend's back. For a moment, she simply held her, allowing the conflicted woman to cry into her shoulder. "It's okay," she said again "to care...we all need things that matter."

Carol's fingers were clutching at Andrea's shoulder blades. "I...I don't know," her body was heaving with each breath. "How to deal with this...He's everywhere and I feel safe..." she sniffed again, "When he's here, I feel safe."

Andrea continued to rub Carol's back, her chin resting on the crying woman's shoulder. "That's a good thing...feeling safe...secure..it's family."

"But I don't know where to go from here..." she placed a hand on her forehead, as if she could contain the jumbled thoughts ready to burst from her skull.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell him..."

Andrea pulled back to look Carol in the face. "Why?"

"What would I even say?" She wiped at her nose.

"What do you feel?" Andrea asked, her expression thoughtful.

Carol's mouth opened and closed again. "Guilt."

"What do you have to feel guilty about?"

"Everything."

A crease was forming in Andrea's brow as she studied her friend; she slowly ran her hands up and down Carol's arms. "You have nothing..._nothing_ to feel guilty about."

"This...whatever this is...whatever it is I'm going through..." she shook her head, "I shouldn't be dragging anyone else into it..you...him...we have enough on our plates."

Andrea frowned, "The fact that something...that _he_ matters to you...that he makes you feel safe...it's not a small thing."

"I should be focused on the group," Carol whispered, "Surviving."

"It can't be _all _you think about," Andrea said, "Running...getting by...that's not a life..." She sighed, taking in the hurt on Carol's face. "We need things that matter; if we didn't have them..." she paused, making sure to squeeze Carol's arm, "Why would we bother running? What's the point of surviving just to live in a world that holds nothing for us?"

"I don't know," Carol sighed, her head falling forward, resting in the crook of Andrea's neck. "I just don't know..."

"None of us do," Andrea whispered, "We're just doing the best we can right now."

Carol gave a weak nod, her body going limp in Andrea's arms. "It's just hard."

"I know." A damp spot was forming on Andrea's shoulder as Carol cried out her frustration...her fears. Hoping to lift some of the gloom that had settled around them, heavy...grey... Andrea stroked Carol's short hair, her thumb brushing up from the nape of her neck. "So," she whispered, feeling the soft hair flip back beneath her thumb, "What's going on with the sleeping arrangement?"

Carol stiffened before pushing away; she lowered her gaze, hands clasped behind her head.

"You've come this far," said Andrea, the blanket slipping down her shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

Andrea smiled, her arms folding across her chest. "I mean, that Daryl...the man who jumps if someone so much as brushes past him...that purposely moved all of his shit to the opposite end of the farm to get away from us and who _I'm_ thoroughly convinced would rather face another herd than deal with the living in any traditional sense...is _sharing_ a sleeping bag?"

"He..."

Andrea held up a finger, interrupting her. "Do you realize how bizarre that is?"

Carol's eyes were fixed on the ground, on an old cigarette butt that she flicked away with her big toe. "He wasn't...not at first."

Andrea's eyes narrowed as she took her place beside Carol, both women leaning against the car. "What are you saying?"

"When everyone was claiming spots, getting settled..."

"Yeah?"

Carol licked her lips nervously. "He set his things down a few feet away from me...along the wall."

"Wait," Andrea raised a hand, and stared at Carol. "So, from the start, he was with you?"

"He wasn't _with_ me..."

"It kind of sounds like he was."

Carol sighed, the tear tracks on her cheeks stiffening.

"I'm sorry; I'm just trying to follow you here...please, continue."

"So, he dropped his things...I was making myself a space in that corner and for a while," she paused, her eyes vacant as she looked out across the parking lot. "I actually do think that I slept...I did...but it didn't last."

"It never does." Andrea shivered as she pulled the blanket back up and over her shoulders.

"I remember waking up...and looking for him...I wondered if he was still there...down the wall."

"Okay."

"And...I don't know," Carol blinked as she struggled to remember what exactly had given her the courage to approach him. "I...I just needed to see him, talk to him.." she shook her head. "I wish I had a better answer but I don't."

"It's fine," Andrea said softly, urging her friend to continue.

"So I go to wake him up...which I shouldn't have done...and he..." She clamped a hand over her mouth, recalling the way his fingers had closed around her throat; Carol decided to spare Andrea that detail. "He was angry."

"When _isn't _he angry?"

Carol gave her friend a sad smile. "Anyway...he.." she scratched at her jaw, the scene replaying in her mind.

"What?" Andrea prodded.

"He told me to go back to bed..."

"Right..."

"And.." Carol could feel color beginning to spread across her face.

"What?" The blonde woman asked, her brow furrowing.

"I..." one small hand concealed the smile on Carol's lips as she fought to hold in a laugh, "I asked him to come with me."

Andrea's mouth dropped open as the crease in her brow deepened. "What?!" she whispered hoarsely, her face breaking into a smile. "Carol?!"

"I _know..._I know how that sounds..." Carol was laughing now, both hands covering her face.

"What were you _thinking_?! Jesus...'Come with me,'...did you really say that?"

Carol slid down until she was sitting on the ground, her head in her hands. "God...I don't know what possessed me," she laughed, fresh tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Well...I_ do_...but..."

"Oh..my god.." it was Andrea's turn to cover her mouth as her face began to turn red.

"No, but really," Carol caught her breath and wiped away the tears. "I do feel safer when he's around and I told him that."

Andrea slumped down beside her, the blanket pooling between them. "What did he have to say?"

Carol ran a hand through her hair, mussing it. "He just wanted me to go back to sleep."

"So that's how he ended up there?"

"That's it," Carol nodded.

Andrea sighed, "That's something else."

"It's not," Carol argued, her hands dropping to her lap. "I wouldn't read too much into it."

"No?"

Carol stared down at her fingers as they laced together, "He just wanted me to hush and go to sleep."

Andrea laughed, her eyes closing as she slowly shook her head.

"Quit," Carol laughed with her.

"I'm sorry," Andrea said, a soft smile on her lips. "It's just...I guess I see it differently; that's all." She pushed a blonde curl out of her eyes.

"Fine," Carol said, exasperated. "How exactly do _you_ see it?"

"Well...for one," her head tilted to the side, chin resting in her palm. "He didn't _have _to go with you..."

Carol cleared her throat, avoiding Andrea's gaze.

"No one _made_ him move..."

"It was only because I was bothering him...he wouldn't have..."

"I'm not finished," said the blonde woman as she sat up straight. "When I came around that corner a minute ago...I really did feel like I was interrupting something..."

"You weren't," Carol assured her, "It was nothing...we..."

"It was NOT nothing."

Carol shifted, inching further away from Andrea.

"God Carol," she ran her fingers through her hair, "I rounded that aisle and even in the dark I could see the look on your face...You were staring at him like...like...I don't even know how to describe it...You two were just...I don't know..." She slumped back against the car, closing her eyes. "It was NOT nothing."

"I'm telling you, you're making too much out of it, said Carol; she raised her hands before letting them drop to her sides.

Andrea glanced sideways, her green eyes narrowing. "Am I?"

Carol looked over at her.

"Then tell me; how did you get so sweaty?"

Carol's lips parted and she felt her heart speed up in her chest. "I told you; it was warm."

"It wasn't _that_ warm."

"Just...let it go," said Carol as she massaged her temples.

"Fine," Andrea stretched, yawning as she did so. "But I know what I saw."

Carol swatted her arm, "Would you mind keeping whatever it is you _think _you saw to yourself?"

"I'm not going to say anything," said Andrea as she pushed herself up off the ground; she offered Carol her hand.

Carol took it, pulling herself up. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Andrea gave her a soft smile and the two of them began making their way back across the parking lot.

"I mean...for all of this," Carol said as she hugged herself.

"What?"

"This...talking...making me talk."

"Glad to help." The younger woman reached out, rubbing Carol's shoulder.

"Even if you aren't that great of a listener..."

"_Excuse_ me?" Andrea's arms were folded across her chest as she attempted to sound offended.

"I told you, what you saw back there...it really was nothing...just the tail end of a stupid argument."

Andrea was silent for a moment; she listened to the sound of gravel crunching beneath their feet. "I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree," she smiled dryly at Carol who simply rolled her eyes in response.

"Fine, now if I remember correctly...the whole reason we came out here was to check on Rick and T-Dog, right?"

Andrea nodded.

"God," Carol reached up to rub her neck, "Rick's been out there since we got here...what is he still doing up?"

"Your guess is as good as mine; I'm glad T decided to join him though...I wouldn't want to be out here alone."

The women stopped as they reached the truck; Rick and T-Dog turned, staring down at them.

"Hey," Andrea called out softly, "You guys okay up there?"

"I am," said T-Dog, "But sheriff here can't keep his eyes open," he shook his head and pointed to Rick.

"Been a long night," the deputy said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"Why don't you head in? Get some water, rest for a while?" Carol asked, taking a step closer to the truck bed.

Rick eyed the three of them, his lids heavy. "Fine; you good here?" He looked at T-Dog.

"I'm good man; go on."

"Alright then; let me know if you need anything...if ya see anything."

"I got it; now _go_." T-Dog clapped him on the back.

Rick groaned as he hopped down into the truck bed, his boots landing with a loud thunk on the rusted metal. Carol reached out, helping him as he climbed over the tailgate.

"Thank you," he said as he passed a hand over his tired face.

"It's fine," she smiled.

As Rick stood rubbing the stiffness from his limbs, Andrea placed a hand on her hip and called up to T-Dog. "You want some company?"

He looked away, scratching at his chin. "Fresh pair of eyes won't hurt."

Andrea grunted, hauling herself up and over the side of the truck bed. "I wouldn't say fresh...but I'm up."

"Long as you can stay awake," he held out his hand and helped her onto the roof, "you're more than welcome to sit on this roof and help me stare at the damn trees."

Andrea shook her head, smiling. "Sounds like a plan." She turned to look down at Rick and Carol. "Why don't you take him in; make sure he _actually_ goes to bed. We've got things out here."

Carol nodded before moving closer to Rick. "Come on; you need a break."

The deputy rubbed his eyes and blinked through the darkness. "I'm fine...fine..I jus..."

"You're barely on your feet; let me help you." She closed the distance between them and slipped an arm around his middle.

"Carol, you don't have to...I'm fine."

"Rick, hush; you're running on empty," she tightened her grip on him and pulled one of his arms so that it draped across her back and over her shoulder.

"Fine...I'll be fine..." he muttered as they slowly made their way back towards the store.

"I know," she whispered. He was leaning heavily on her as they walked and Carol struggled to hold him up. "We're almost there and then you can eat something...get some water. Have you even had anything since we got here?"

"No...no I...I haven't had...there's food?" He looked at her, his green eyes blood-shot.

"Yeah; there's food." She reached out, pushing the glass door open. Rick winced when he heard the chiming of the bell.

"I don't wanna wake anyone," he whispered hoarsely.

"It's alright," she grunted as they stepped over the threshold, letting the door swing shut behind them. "In case you haven't noticed...most of us are up anyway." She stepped lightly, leading him to the back of the store.

"Lori? Carl?" He asked, his brows knitting together.

"They're right here," she said softly as they reached the far wall.

Lori stirred the instant they rounded the last aisle. "Rick?" She called out nervously.

"He's here," Carol sighed as she allowed the exhausted deputy to slump down beside his wife.

Lori placed a soft hand on his cheek, her dark eyes searching his face. "Are you alright?"

"Fine...fine," he mumbled, his eyes closing as he eased back onto the sleeping bag.

"He was out there for a while," Carol coughed as she rubbed her shoulder. "He might need some water."

Lori nodded as she continued to stroke her husband's cheek.

Carol turned to go, her back still aching from where Rick had leaned on her.

"Wait," Lori called.

Carol glanced over her shoulder.

"Thank you...for helping him...he's..." She shook her head, waves of dark hair framing her pale face, "I don't know that he would have come in if someone hadn't made him."

"I know," Carol whispered, "It's okay." She gave the woman a sad smile before heading back to her corner. She tiptoed, her bare feet soundless on the linoleum as she made her way up to the counter.

_They're all right...we just need to sleep...at least for a few hours...it'll help. Rick, Andrea...T-Dog, Daryl...We all need to rest. _

She reached the counter and turned to the right, heading for her corner; when she reached her sleeping bag, Carol froze, a crease forming in her brow. Daryl wasn't there.

_It's not important...it's none of your business, put it...him...out of your mind and go to sleep for god's sake...you're going to be useless if you don't._

Despite her weak attempt to ignore the hunter's absence, Carol's disappointment was palpable as she sank down onto the blanket. She could feel her own sadness, loneliness...draped about her shoulders, brushing against her skin like a pair of heavy, gray wings...shrouding her. Carol was tired; she didn't want to think about Daryl...or Sophia or the farm...she simply wanted to close her eyes and fall, weightless into the soothing, shadowed world of her dreams. She wanted to stop thinking, wanting, feeling... Her lids grew heavy as she fell back on the blanket and imagined herself being dropped into a well, deep and dark...endless...she was falling slowly, warm air rushing past her as she tumbled through nothing..to nothing...but she wasn't afraid. The words were stolen from her lips as she spun, her mind free of thought...there was no sound as she plunged deeper into the void of her own subconscious...Carol's mind and body were numb...she was dimly aware of a quiet peace spreading through her, melting over everything, like soft, white wax...and then there was nothing...Carol sighed deeply, overwhelmed by the much needed emptiness, the sudden stillness of a cleared mind...as if the constant rush, the clamor of colliding thoughts has stopped, all action suspended...frozen...words...names, faces crystallized in her skull before silently shattering, brilliant for an instant and then disappearing...Powerless, Carol watched them go, her body still tumbling through space, through layers of thought and non-thought...as if she were falling into the earth...

Daryl was gripping the sides of the sink hard as he stared at himself in the mirror; he could barely make out his own reflection in the dark.

_The hell are ya doin'?_

He ground his teeth and hung his head in frustration.

_Stop..._

The porcelain was slick beneath his sweating palms and he found himself inching forwards as his hands slid along the edge of the sink.

"Fuck," he sighed, stamping at the floor.

He brought one hand up to cover his mouth.

_Be quiet...last thing ya need is somebody comin' in here...askin' ya why you're up... _

Daryl glared at himself in the glass, his eyes burning blue with anger.

_Better get your shit together real quick_

He hissed, the tightness in his groin still painful. His reflection glared back, cold, hard.

"What do you want?" He growled under his breath, eyes fixed on the mirror.

An image flashed suddenly in his mind...the shining beads of sweat on her chest...like rain on leaves, slipping...down...he could see it in sharp detail, agonizing clarity...he shook his head, not wanting to hear the soft sound of a single drop of sweat sliding over her skin...echoing in his head...

_Stop! _

His jaw was clenched as he fought himself...his thoughts. Daryl looked up slowly, studying the man in the mirror; he reached up to wipe away some of the grime and dirt but stopped, his hand flat against the glass, fingers splaying over the smooth, cool surface. He squinted and saw that his lips were parted, his breathing ragged.

_What's happenin'?_

Both hands were on the glass now as he struggled to hold himself up. He frowned, the muscles in his back tensing...he wanted to push...keep pushing until he moved the wall...until he could rid himself of the man in the mirror.

"Fuck..." the curse was hot as it passed his chapped lips. One hand was forming a fist against the glass, twisting tighter...skin pulled taut over his straining knuckles...

When he opened his eyes, it was her in the mirror. He studied her, confused...

_What?_

He watched her flicker and fade, spots appearing in the glass...her likeness seemed to split, breaking apart...colors shifting...

His breaths were labored as she disappeared...and then the scene changed...He frowned...it was them. They stood in Herschel's kitchen, both leaning over the island...

_But..why? What is…?_

She held his hand in hers, her eyes focused as she carefully pulled the splinter from his palm. He watched, fascinated, as this remembered version of himself grimaced when the sliver of wood was removed. He felt the memory of pain as his fist tightened. He was leaning closer to the glass, his breath creating circles of fog as he continued to stare. Carol lowered her head, blowing softly on the wound...easing the sting...

"Why did ya do that?" He asked her, his voice a cracked whisper.

But she couldn't hear him; she simply smiled, her thumb rubbing the inside of his wrist.

"Why?" He pleaded, his voice rising with his anger. The memory dissolved behind the glass and his own face reappeared in its wake. Daryl closed his eyes, his forehead resting against the mirror as his fist slowly slid down. One hand still clung to the gleaming surface, his fingertips leaving sloppy prints.

Even with his eyes slammed shut, he couldn't get away from her. She was there, painted on the walls of his mind. His mouth grew dry as he remembered the way she'd snapped at him, color playing across her face...teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her lip...the edge in her voice as she hurled her words at him...sharp...angry..he wanted to run his finger along that edge...if he could...feel it...let it cut into him.

_Christ… _

She'd been there...touching him...her nails pricking at the skin on his arm, grazing...tracing contours...her fingertips searing trails across his skin. The thoughts...pictures in his head were too real; Daryl growled pushing himself away from the glass. He leaned against the side of the first stall, his head going back as he attempted to regain his composure.

_Jus...stop...don't think about it_.

"Stop," he breathed, eyes moving behind closed lids. His hair was plastered to his forehead, palms flat against the wall of the stall. He could feel his shirt clinging to his back. "Lord..." the hunter sucked his lower lip hard as more images forced themselves into his already crowded mind. Her leaning over him, lips brushing his cheek...the sound of her voice ringing in his ears. Her slender fingers closing around his wrist as she fought him off...The line of her body as she lay on her back...feet away...warm and restless, her legs...pale...

"Fuckin'..." The words were melting on Daryl's tongue as he pulled one hand from the wall of the stall, lifting it...

_Stop…_

"Keep... sayin' tha..," he muttered to himself between breaths. "Like it means somethin'..." he smirked in the dark, laughing softly in his delirium. He snapped his wrist, shaking the stiffness from the joints in his hand. "Fuckin' stop..." he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement as another small laugh escaped him. Daryl leaned hard against the wall of the stall, bruising the ridges in his spine. His bottom lip was still caught between his teeth as he flexed his fingers, opening and closing his hand. He sighed, his nostrils flaring slightly as the warm air tickled his upper lip. The back of his head was pressed to the stall and he swallowed hard, torn between what he knew and what he didn't. The hunter took a deep breath as he fumbled with the button on his jeans, when he felt it give he laughed lightly to himself. He bit his lip harder as he began to tug at his zipper. Daryl winced as he heard the sound of the tiny metal teeth splitting apart, "Shit's loud.." he whispered hoarsely; he stopped with his fly half-open. The hunter glanced down, straining to see in the darkness, unsure and unprepared for the feeling that was gripping him now.

He closed his eyes again and tried to focus on the pain in his back, the pounding in his skull...anything to keep him grounded...but his efforts were in vain. She was there...or the idea of her was...in his head, as real as anything...his thoughts rushed violently back to her knees, to how he'd almost touched her..how he'd wanted to.

"Damn," he turned his head, coughing into his shoulder. He wondered if she was soft...everywhere, frail...There had always been something soft about her...the way she talked...the way she was...he sighed, giving himself over to the thoughts...each more vivid than the last until his fingertips were twitching with imagined heat...After several deep breaths, He placed his shaking hand flat on his stomach.

_Ya can't..._

"Screw you," he snorted, arguing with the other half of himself...the weaker half. He recaptured his lower lip as his hand slid slowly down his stomach.

_Ain't right_…

"Shut the hellup.." his words were slurred and his breathing had picked up. His lips were parted as his hand slipped down past his navel; the skin was warm under his palm. Daryl was quickly forgetting everything that wasn't her...the wall at his back, the room he was standing in...the hour...everything. His blood followed his hand. He froze as his fingertips dipped down, inching under the waistband of his boxers.

_Stop... _

The hunter clenched his jaw before answering. "Little...late..." He panted, licking his lips; he could taste salt. His thumb separated from his fingers as he slid lower. Creases were forming at the corners of his eyes...he was holding them shut so tightly..."C'mon," he urged himself as a drop of sweat formed quietly at his temple. Weak, hungry...Daryl moved his hand lower, hips bucking slightly as his thumb and fingers closed hesitantly around himself. "Fuckin' Christ," he hissed, his grip tightening. For a moment, he was still, savoring the feeling. He fought to keep his breathing under control as the need for release pushed everything else from his mind. He was alone, trapped inside this darkness he'd created for himself...a toxin in his brain, in his bloodstream...somehow...he'd become a slave to it and now he stood...on shaking legs, unsure of how to stop...He let the desire lick at his consciousness until he could think of nothing else. Daryl slowly began to pull, gritting his teeth as he did so. As his hand traveled back down, he groaned into his shoulder, biting at the fabric of his shirt. He was pulling again, shocks of dark hair hung in his face, in his eyes.. the muscles in his stomach were becoming painfully tense...but it didn't matter...all that mattered was the friction. He shuddered as his hand slid back up the length of himself, squeezing...giving him the pressure he wanted...needed. He paused, feeling the blood pulse and pound..

_Why? Why ya doin' this?_

"whysit...matter?" He panted...his lungs were beginning to burn.

_Think you know_.

"Fuck!" He groaned, his free hand going to his hair, pulling hard, blunt nails grazing his scalp. "I don't!" He hissed.

_Ya do. _

Daryl continued to tug at his hair but the locks were damp, slipping through his fingers. "I don't..." he whispered hoarsely into the small room, his hand still closed around himself...he needed motion.

_Stop this_…

"I Will..." he sighed, his eyes half open, "I will...but," his hand began to slide down again, making his hips jerk. "Gotta..._fix_ it...gotta..." The words hung in the stale air around him and he forgot what he was saying. Daryl's lids were growing heavy as the pleasure haze continued to fill his brain, swirling...churning, like thick clouds of sweet smoke...he could smell it...taste it... The hunter's eyes snapped open, his entire body going rigid as a strange sound reached him through the fog, _footsteps_...

His heart was slamming against his ribs and every muscle ached with unrelieved tension. He blinked several times, trying to focus on the sound, his hand still squeezing...

The footsteps were getting louder but they seemed to stop just outside the door...he heard it creak as someone pushed it part of the way open. "Daryl?"

_Glenn...Jesus..._

The hunter swore under his breath as he tried to calm himself.

"You in there?"

"Need a minute..." Daryl managed, hoping his voice did not belie the state he was in.

There was silence and then the door swung shut. He held his breath until he heard Glenn's footsteps retreating. A heavy sigh of relief passed his lips and his grip loosened. "Can't do this..." he whispered, his voice like gravel. Daryl gave one last, weak tug before reluctantly letting go. He pushed himself off the wall and back to the sink, hands going to either side, holding on. Exhausted, confused, he turned one of the tarnished faucets and watched through narrowed eyes as a steady stream of water rushed out. Labored breaths still racked his body as he held one hand under the stream, catching as much water as he could. The hunter coughed as he splashed cold water into his face, "Shit..." He repeated the motion, his wet hand running down over his features, cool drops clinging to the scruff under his chin. He shook his head, sending clear droplets flying from the ends of his hair, splattering across the mirror. He was gripping the sides of the sink, his head hung in shame and anger; he let beads of water roll down his cheeks, off the end of his nose...But it wasn't helping...he could feel his body straining, drawing his attention downward...

_No._

Determined to fight it, Daryl cupped one hand beneath the stream...when it was full he quickly pulled it from the sink and slapped the back of his neck, letting the cold water trickle down his spine. He did it again...and again, wincing each time the water rolled down his back. Once he felt he could stand on his own, he released the sink and cupped both hands under the faucet. He splashed his face, hands sliding upward into his hair...where he kept them...eyes closed as shining beads moved over his skin, falling... landing with soft pats on the floor. Soon, a small puddle had formed around his boots. He mussed his hair roughly before reaching down to close his fly. Daryl's breathing had slowed, and he could feel that some of the blood was returning to his brain but he still hissed as he pulled up the tab on his zipper. His wet fingers struggled with the button but he finally managed to fasten it. Wet and shaking, the hunter sank to the floor and scooted back until his head was resting against the side of the stall. His knees were raised, bent and he draped one elbow across them as his other hand returned to his hair. He jerked hard at his dripping locks, punishing himself; the pain helped.

_Can't let that happen again._

"Yeah," he sighed, fingers clawing at a hole in his jeans. "I know." He released his hair, the rough hand sliding down, over his face, stopping at his mouth. "I know." Daryl smacked his head back into the wall, muttering curses under his breath. He waited with impossible patience for the tightness in his groin to subside, focusing instead on his now damp shirt that seemed to be getting colder by the minute...clinging to him...chilling him.

_Fuckin' Glenn..._

He was tempted to laugh as he sat there on the hard floor, shivering like a wet dog.

_What are ya doin'?_

"Wish I knew." He shook his head and let out a low whistle. Gradually, his heart rate began to slow, skin cooling as the minutes ticked by.

_And Andrea?_

"What about her?" Daryl snapped as he leaned forward, forehead resting on his knees.

_If her ass hadn't come 'round that aisle?_

The hunter had to bite back his anger as he slammed a fist into the ground. "Told ya; I don't know..." he snarled. A soft knock on the bathroom door made him jump.

"Everything good?" Glenn called out softly, concern plain in his voice.

Daryl's upper lip curled back in anger and he briefly considered hurling a few choice obscenities at the unwelcome visitor. "Jus fine," he muttered, controlling himself. He grunted as he stood, casting a quick glance down at his fly. "Took long enough," he said under his breath, seeing that everything had...settled...for the time being. As he headed for the door, Daryl caught his reflection in the mirror; he took a step forward, but stopped, changing his mind.

_No sense in seein' how dumb your ass looks..._

He rubbed the sore spot on his lower back and ran a hand through his tangled hair, attempting to smooth it.

_Screw it..._

Taking a deep breath, Daryl made his way to the door, jerking it open. Glenn stumbled backwards and waited for the hunter to pass. The young man's brows knit together as he noticed the water dripping from Daryl's hair, and the damp spots on his shirt. "Get a shower?" he said jokingly, a faint smile on his face.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder, his mouth a hard line as he glared at Glenn.

"I...Sorry..I wasn't trying to..." He lowered his gaze, wishing he'd never disturbed the hunter.

Daryl merely stared, silent, dripping, as the younger man cleared his throat and turned away, hurrying into the bathroom.

"Is anybody asleep in this damn place? Good lord..." Daryl grumbled as he walked. When he reached the sleeping bag, he flopped down, groaning. As he rolled onto his back Daryl frowned; it occurred to him that he'd gone back to the place where all of his problems had started, without even thinking about it. He sighed, pushing the damp hair back from his brow while one hand was resting on his stomach.

Carol sat bolt-upright the second his body hit the blanket. "Daryl?"

The hunter's eyes squeezed shut. "What?" He growled in the dark, hoping his tone would end whatever conversation she might want to have.

She hesitated, frowning down at the cross on her chest. "Nothing; never mind." She eased back down, making sure to face away from him as she turned onto her side. "Night," she whispered, forcing her eyes to close.

Daryl listened as she shifted on the blanket, struggling to get comfortable. When she was finally still, he looked over at her...somehow she seemed farther away than before...as if the space between them was secretly stretching. He watched the line of her body rise with every breath; she pulled her knees up to her chest...her body curling up like some small animal struggling to keep warm. Clumsy, useless words filled his mouth but he held them in.

_Let her be. _

The voice in his head spoke slowly, clearly... and he knew it was right. Drained, defeated, Daryl rolled back onto his stomach and pulled the make-shift pillow under his chin. It was in that moment, as he rested his head on the bundled softness and stretched his legs that the hunter realized just how tired he was...how tired he'd been for days...weeks, maybe longer... With his eyes closed and his wet hair soaking the pillow, Daryl finally let go. Every muscle seemed to go slack, every concern to fall away...He felt the pieces of himself scattering...his body slipping into sleep, heavy...with his thoughts suspended around him, Daryl was sinking...like so much lost debris...settling at last on the ocean floor, crashing quietly...sending up tiny clouds of sand. There was no sound as he lay there, surrounded by broken bits of conversation...moments both remembered and imagined...some glimmering, others dull..tarnished...He tried to count them...coins in a fountain...but there were too many. He couldn't recall ever being this tired...if _anyone_ had ever been this tired...but that didn't matter, not here...deep down in this place, endless blue...he was alone with his thoughts...with all the words he hadn't said, the things hadn't done...But it was enough. It was quiet, warm ...and the rush of life seemed to stop here, slowing as it hit the water. The last thing Daryl saw as sleep wrapped its arms around him was blue...two blue eyes staring at him, into him...He reached out as if to touch them, his limbs like lead, trapped by the crushing force of an ocean above him...he couldn't reach her...

In the waking world, Carol sniffed, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

_He came back..._

She clasped her hands, quietly thanking whatever force it was that brought him back to her.

Midmorning light, bright and hot, was spilling into the store; when it reached Daryl he groaned into his pillow. As he lay on the rumpled blanket, he listened to the sounds of the others; he could hear them moving, packing...the tinkling of the bell as people came and went...the sharp squeak of sneakers on linoleum.

"Lord..." he muttered, hiding his face from the light.

"Hey man, you up?"

Daryl lifted his head and saw T-Dog standing over him.

"It look like I'm up?" The hunter snapped, his eyes barely open.

T-Dog dropped to a crouch, glancing quickly around the store before focusing on Daryl. "Look man, I know you ain't exactly a morning person, but Rick wants to head out pretty soon."

"Fine," Daryl snarled before rolling onto his side, showing T-Dog his back.

"I'm only tellin' your ass 'cause we could use some help grabbin' supplies," T-Dog's voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "We gotta grab as much shit as we can before we leave...food, drinks..anything we might need out there...am I makin' sense?"

Daryl's hand balled into a fist but let his anger out in a slow sigh, "Yeah." He rubbed at his tired eyes and frowned.

"Alright then, guess I'll see you out there in a minute."

The hunter shot a mean glare over his shoulder at the other man.

T-Dog lifted his hands as he stood and backed away. When he'd gone, Daryl forced himself to sit up, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun. He sat there, rubbing his back and making a feeble attempt to smooth his hair...it still felt slightly damp; his shirt was wrinkled and he knew he must look like he slept in a barn. As he pushed a few shocks of dark hair away from his forehead something landed on the blanket beside him. Daryl twitched, looking down. Still in the packaging was a plain, white toothbrush and next to it, a travel size tube of toothpaste. His eyes narrowed as he picked up the toothbrush.

"Thought we should all have one," said a soft voice.

When he lifted his chin, he saw Carol staring down at him. She rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Just one of those things you can always find at gas stations for some reason," she rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Well, I'll see you...out there," she cleared her throat before making a hasty retreat, rounding the nearest aisle.

"Thanks," Daryl called after her but she didn't stop.

He frowned down at the small, plastic package in his hand and wondered what it was that made her care.

_'Bout toothbrushes..._

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the tube of tooth paste.

_World's endin'...wouldn't wanna go gettin' cavities..._

Daryl placed his free hand on his knee as he pushed himself up off the blanket. He stood for a moment, stretching, a long yawn escaping him. As he scratched at the scruff on his jaw, Andrea walked past, a small pallet of water bottles in her arms; she paused, looking back at him. Daryl rubbed the sore spot on his back, ignoring her.

"Sleep okay?" She asked, a small smile creeping across her face.

He eyed her, a crease forming in his brow. "Fine," he answered flatly, his voice still thick with sleep.

She nodded, "Good; I'm glad." With that, Andrea turned away, continuing on her path to the doors.

Daryl stared at her back as she walked away.

_Since when does Andrea give a shit 'bout how I sleep? _

He started making his way to the bathroom and stopped with his hand on the door.

_Christ...the sleepin' bag..._

He stifled a curse as he pushed the door open. When he stepped into the small bathroom, Glenn was at the sink, head lowered as he spat out a mouthful of white foam.

_Can't get one damn second to yourself in this place... _

When the young man looked up he caught the hunter's reflection in the mirror. "Hey," he said, wiping his mouth.

Daryl merely grunted, arms folding across his chest as he leaned back against the wall waiting.

"Sorry..be out of your way in a minute." Glenn cupped his hands below the running water before bringing them to his lips; he took a quick swig, swishing the water in his mouth. When he'd finished at the sink, Glenn turned the faucet off and wiped his wet hands on his jeans. "All yours," he smiled crossing the small room, toothbrush and toothpaste clutched in his hand. He noticed the way the hunter was

eyeing his toothbrush. "Smart of her," he said, following Daryl's gaze. "To grab these," Glenn raised his hand, indicating his items.

Daryl shrugged in response before heading to the sink. He turned the faucet and listened to the sound of rushing water.

"Just one of those little things," Glenn said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something you don't think about, but you know you'd miss." He looked up, catching Daryl's eyes in the mirror. The expression on the hunter's face silenced him and he slowly began backing up. "See ya.." He pulled the bill of his hat lower on his head and the door squeaked on its hinges as he left.

Daryl pushed the younger man's words from his mind as he fumbled with the plastic packaging. He freed the toothbrush and held it in his mouth as he unscrewed the lid on the small tube of toothpaste.

_Fuckin' people._

"So," said T-Dog as he placed a crate of Gatorade in the back of the pickup. "Got someplace in mind?"

Rick stood, elbows resting on the side of the truck bed as he inspected the contents. "Just head South for now...keep movin' in the opposite direction of the herd...find something remote."

T-Dog nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "You feel good about our supplies?"

Shane approached then, carrying several pallets of water; he grunted as he set them down beside the Gatorade bottles. "Ain't nobody goin' thirsty...that's gotta count for somethin'." He rubbed the back of his head, his eyes going from T-Dog to Rick.

The Deputy took a step back from the truck, his hands going to his hips. "It's lookin' like we're good on food," he frowned at the ground, kicking at gravel. "Just wishin' we hadn't lost the RV...all the tents."

"Ain't like we'd be fittin' in there anyhow," said Shane. "Not with the extra bodies."

"I know," Rick sighed, the heels of his boots grinding into the ground. "But the tents would have been good."

"We need something bigger," said T-Dog, "Store was pretty crowded; I mean, I'm glad we found it and all but..." He raised his hands, shaking his head. "Can't have people steppin' on each other."

"No; you're right," Rick sighed, rubbing his jaw. "We need someplace big enough to hold everyone...and everything...place we can fortify."

"You still thinkin' houses?" Shane asked, cocking his head to the side. "Or we lookin' at anything that'll hold us? Old warehouses...empty storefront...?"

"I don't know," said the deputy, "Kinda thinkin' it'd be better to find a house..." He stared hard at his boots. "Place we can live..."

Shane rapped his knuckles on the side of the truck bed.

"Why? What're you thinkin'?" Rick asked.

"Man," He averted his gaze, fingers curling around the top of the tailgate. "Ya'll know what I think."

"You still on Ft. Benning?" T-Dog asked, squinting as the sun bore down on all of them.

"It's still got my vote but..." Shane eyed his partner, "Hell...I don't know." He cleared his throat, "House could work...if we found the right one."

"There's gotta be one out there," Rick stared out at the road and beyond into the dark trees.

"There is," T-Dog added. "We'll find it."

The three men looked up to see Glenn making his way across the small parking lot; he was holding a rolled sleeping bag up on his shoulder.

"They alright in there?" Rick asked as the younger man reached the truck.

"Yeah, just trying to grab as much as they can." He tossed his bundle into truck bed and adjusted his hat. "But, just a heads up..."

Rick arched an eyebrow, waiting.

"If you can, I would avoid talking to Daryl...unless you absolutely have to."

"Somethin' up his ass already?" Shane snorted.

Glenn let out a slow whistle and thrust his hands into his pockets. "I don't know; he just seems...off, more pissed than usual maybe? I don't know" He shifted from one foot to the other, "He's been acting weird since last night."

"Last night?" T-Dog's eyes narrowed, a smirk forming on his face. "You think he'd be in a better mood what with..."

Rick shot the man a look, silencing him. "It's fine," said the deputy. "We'll leave him be unless we need something."

"Just thought I should let you know...before someone says the wrong thing." He bit his lip as he turned to go.

When the younger man reached the glass doors, Shane shook his head, "I ain't walkin' on eggshells all day for his sorry ass."

"Nobody asked you to," Rick said as he took a step closer to his partner. "Just try not to start anything; think you can manage that?" His green eyes were narrowed as he studied Shane.

"Yeah man," Shane sucked his lower lip, biting back whatever remark was waiting on his tongue. "I'm good."

"I hope so." The deputy stared hard at his partner before walking away. "Last thing I need is people causing problems; we got enough to deal with as it is." He headed for the store, leaving Shane and T-Dog beside the truck.

"So you gonna be tiptoein' around Daryl all day?" Shane asked.

"Man," T-Dog tugged at his shirt-collar, hoping to relieve some of the heat. "I'm just ready to get outta here."

"Know where we're going?" Carl asked as he helped his mother toss various snack foods and drinks into their duffle bag. She paused, a jar of peanut butter in her hands.

"I don't know honey," She tucked a long strand of dark hair behind her ear and let the jar fall into the open bag. "I'm sure your father has a plan; he'll get us somewhere safe."

Carl looked thoughtful as he pulled a box of Saltines from a low shelf. "Be nice if we found a house."

Lori sighed, her hands on her knees as she bent down to scan the bottom shelves. "Yeah...yeah it would."

"Someplace big, like the farm." He tossed the box of crackers in the air and caught it.

"Think that's what we're all hoping for," she said.

"I bet there's plenty of houses," he drummed his fingers on the edges of the box. "Everyone headed for the cities when it started...there's probably tons of houses...just sitting empty...bet we can find one." He dropped the saltines into the duffle bag.

"I know we will," Lori gave him a weak smile. "Come here," she beckoned him as she stood up.

Carl moved to her side; she pulled him close, leaning down to brush his forehead with a soft kiss. "Why don't you see what medicine you can find. Aspirin, Tylenol...anything."

Carl nodded, adjusting the Stetson. Lori watched him as he took off down the aisle; when he'd dashed out of sight, she placed one hand flat on her belly and glanced down as she rubbed it

"We'll find a place," she said softly, almost to herself. "We will." She cleared her throat as she came out of her trance, dark eyes focusing while she continued to scan the shelves.

Daryl shook his toothbrush, flinging tiny drops of water; he tucked the brush and the toothpaste into his pocket before leaving the bathroom. When he stepped out into the aisle he looked to his right and saw that Carol was crouched in front of her sleeping bag, frowning as she attempted to zip and bundle it. Daryl walked

towards their corner, dropping down beside her. She jumped, startled by the sudden closeness. "Hey," she said softly, casting a quick glance at him before returning to her work.

"I can help ya roll it," he said, "Jus gimme that corner."

Carol licked her lips nervously and avoided his gaze. "Thanks, but it's okay; I've got it.

Daryl, somewhat surprised by the rejection, cocked his head to one side, frowning at her. "Sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine...just a sleeping bag," she answered too quickly, a forced smile on her face.

Confused, irritated, Daryl stood, brushing dirt from his jeans. He glared down at her back before leaving.

_Fine...tryin' to be helpful..._

He pushed past the glass doors, squinting as the sun hit him like a hard truth. As he adjusted to the brightness, Daryl could see Herschel, Patricia and Beth loading supplies into the trunk of their car. Beside them, T-Dog and Rick were talking, both men leaning against the pickup. He rubbed at his eyes and made his way across the parking lot. "Hey!" He called out, trying to get the deputy's attention.

T-Dog ran a hand over his face when he heard the hunter's rough voice. "Here we go..." he sighed.

"Quit," Rick snapped. "Could be he's just pissed at Glenn; maybe that's all it is."

T-Dog rolled his eyes, "Man, I hope so; I ain't in the mood today...too damn hot."

Daryl's hands were on his hips when he reached the truck.

"Hey," said Rick, giving the hunter a nod.

Daryl glanced at T-Dog before addressing the deputy. "When ya wanna head out?"

"Soon as we can...think we should soak up as much of this daylight as we can."

The hunter chewed his lip for a moment. "What are ya wantin' from back there?" He gestured to the store with his thumb.

"Whatever you feel like grabbin'. Anything that might be useful. We ain't gonna have room for it all; truck's already fillin' up."

Daryl nodded. "Still thinkin about findin' a house?"

Rick and T-Dog eyed each other. "That's the plan," said the deputy, arms folded across his chest. "Think you had the right idea about gettin' off the main road; just gotta make sure we're stocked up first. I'm not tryin' to get us out in the sticks with no food. Twelve people..." Rick frowned at the ground. "A lot of mouths to feed."

"What about weapons?" Daryl turned his head and spat.

"We're lucky Glenn grabbed the gun-bag back at the farm but..." he shook his head and let out a slow whistle. "I'm wishin' we had more bullets."

"What we got left?" T-Dog asked, "Two boxes of ammo?"

Rick nodded, "Somethin' like that."

"That ain't gonna get us far," Daryl snorted "'Specially considerin' half of these folks can't shoot worth a damn." He scratched at the back of his head, thoughtful. "still got that map?"

"Think it's in the Buick," said T-Dog.

"What're you thinkin'?" Rick asked, his green eyes fixed on Daryl.

"Might know a place." The hunter left them and headed for the Buick.

The two men watched as he approached Herschel.

"Seems fine," T-Dog said under his breath.

"Maybe Glenn just got under his skin."

T-Dog shrugged in response. "Hey, I ain't gonna question it."

At the back of the store, Carol and Andrea sat with their backs against the drink wall.

"I always wondered what was in that stuff," said Carol as she glanced behind her at a row of redbull cans, untouched behind the glass.

Andrea followed her gaze. "Nothing good, but they do work."

"Hm," Carol tore open the small plastic packaging and pulled out a tiny, chocolate donut. "Think maybe we could use some," she said as she took a bite, "At least I know I could."

"Might not be a bad idea," Andrea popped a Ritz cracker into her mouth. "Maybe we should grab some; can't hurt." She licked the salt from her lips and brushed crumbs from her hands.

Carol made a face as she chewed the stale donut, "I think these might actually have expired _before_ the world ended..."

Andrea laughed softly as she bit into another cracker. "So..." She bent one knee, her arm draped lazily over it.

"So?" Carol asked, a crease forming in her brow.

"As fascinating as energy drinks are..." she lifted a cracker to her lips, biting it in half.

Carol just stared at her, confused.

"How did you sleep?" Andrea glanced sideways at her and popped the second half of the cracker into her mouth.

"Andrea..." Carol sighed, rolling her eyes; she forced herself to swallow and pull another donut from the packaging.

"What?" The blonde woman asked, looking around the small store before settling on her friend.

"Don't."

"I'm just curious." Andrea leaned back, letting her head rest against the glass.

Carol wiped a small smudge of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. "As well as anyone else I guess. How did _you_ sleep?"

Andrea's eyes narrowed as she watched her friend. "Carol...come on." She sighed, waiting for a response.

"Fine, alright? I slept fine."

"Did you?" A faint smile was forming on Andrea's face.

"Actually..." Carol stared at the ceiling, searching for the rest of her sentence. "I really did." She blinked several times as a realization settled on her, like a bird landing lightly on a fence post, only staying for a moment.

Andrea arched an eyebrow. "Really? You slept? As in; you _actually _slept? Like you did before all of this?" She waved her hand in a lazy arch.

Carol stared at her, blue eyes wide beneath her lashes. "Yeah...no," she lowered her voice and scooted a little closer to the other woman. "I don't even think I slept that well before...when I was in my own house..."

"Really? Why is that?"

Carol's eyes seemed vacant, as if she were seeing something from another time...another world. "I never slept well with Ed..." She brought her knees to her chest and cradled them with one arm. "He would stay out late...come home most nights smelling like the bar. I made myself stay up until he got home..." She stared down at a scrape on her leg. "Didn't want him waking Sophia...going into her room."

Andrea's expression softened, "I'm sorry."

When Carol lifted her head there was a look of awe on her face, one hand at her temple, as if it could contain the strange new thoughts springing up through the soil in her mind. "But last night...or, this morning, I guess..." the corner of her mouth quirked up in amusement, "I really slept..."

"You felt safe." said Andrea as she placed a hand on Carol's shoulder. "That's why you slept."

"That's why I slept..." Carol echoed softly, the unexpected truth bringing light to her eyes. She shook her head and ran a hand through her short hair.

"What? Isn't that a good thing?" Andrea asked.

"It is...but," Carol was still shaking her head slowly, a soft smile on her lips. "I don't know if I can do that again...If I should..."

"What's the problem?" Andrea plucked another cracker from the red box.

"It's just.." Carol leaned forward into her knees. "It's too much...I think."

"Too much?"

Carol sighed, her hands sliding down from her knees and over her shins. "You don't understand," she was laughing quietly.

Andrea's brows were knitting together.

"Him...being there..._right_ there..." She shook her head again before looking at Andrea, "It's too much."

"Ah." Andrea nodded

"But it's good," Carol said, drumming her fingers against her leg. "Good that I can admit that and take steps to avoid it in the future."

"I don't know," said Andrea as she let out a slow whistle.

"What?"

It was the blonde woman's turn to slowly shake her head, loose curls framing her face; she rapped her knuckles on the linoleum floor. "Good sleep..." she was smiling down at the floor. "Is hard to come by."

Carol arched an eyebrow.

"It's not every man that can give you good sleep." Andrea tucked the stray curls behind her ears and glanced at her friend; the instant she did, the look on Carol's face made her laugh.

Carol was staring at her, open-mouthed. "Andrea!" She wanted to sound angry but knew that a laugh was coming.

"Hey," said the blonde woman, holding up one hand, "I'm just saying; if you find a man that's gives you what you need in bed..."

Carol swatted hard at her arm.

"Sleep!" Andrea laughed, rubbing the sore spot on her bicep. "Jesus Carol! Sleep...I was talking about _sleep_."

"Mhmm," Carol swatted her again for good measure. "You're awful and I'm going to quit telling you things."

"Relax," said Andrea, she smoothed her shirt sleeve where Carol had smacked her. "Or people might think you've got some frustration you need to work out."

"Oh...my god," said Carol, one hand pressed to her forehead as she leaned back against the smooth glass; all she wanted was to be mad but her body was already starting to shake with trapped laughter. Both women sat on the cool floor, enjoying their brief escape into normalcy...reveling in the lost art of gossip.

"I don't even know what to say to you." Carol was laughing softly, creases forming at the corners of her eyes.

"It's not _me_ you need to talk to," Andrea teased.

Carol ran her hands over her face and sighed. "How would I even begin..." She shook her head, eyes closing. "I couldn't...There is no conceivable way that I could ever broach the subject with him."

"And what subject is that?" Asked Andrea as she popped another cracker into her mouth.

Carol's eyes narrowed as she stared at her friend. "I think you know."

"I know that I know," Andrea rolled her eyes. "I just want to hear you say it."

"Why do I need to say it?" Carol asked, the side of her face resting against her knees.

"Have you ever? Out loud?"

Carol bit her bottom lip. "No; I haven't." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't you think you should?" Andrea sucked the salt from her fingertips.

"Maybe...I don't know. I think...I think that might make it harder."

"Why is that?"

"Because then..." Carol lifted her head, blue eyes fixed on the empty aisle in front of her; she raised one hand before letting it fall to her side. "It would be real...it would be out there and I wouldn't be able to take it back...and then...I guess..." she paused, scratching the back of her head. "It would be real...if that makes any sense...I don't know."

Andrea could sense the fear and doubt surrounding her friend, hanging heavy on her frame like a winter coat...the thought entered her mind that she might be pushing carol too hard. "Well," she said, brushing crumbs from her lap, "Don't do anything you're not ready to do."

"I don't know what I'm ready for," Carol sighed as she leaned forward into her knees.

The blonde woman continued to fish crackers out of the red box, softly crunching as she chewed. "Figured you would be ready though," she said under her breath.

"What?" Carol asked without looking up, the word muffled by her knees.

"I'm guessing it's been a long time," Andrea rubbed her hands together, watching crumbs fall to the floor, "Since you got any sleep."

Carol felt color creeping across her cheeks as anger began to bubble beneath her skin; she looked up slowly and glared at Andrea but the smug look on the woman's face made Carol want to smile. "If you _must_ know," Carol was attempting to sound upset but the smile won out, making her shake her head. She nodded slowly, smiling down at her feet, "It has. It has been a really, _really_ long time." When she glanced sideways at Andrea, a laugh burst from the other woman's lips and she nearly choked on her cracker.

"Hell," said Carol taking another tiny donut from the package, "I don't even remember the last time I put _myself_ to sleep."

Andrea's face was quickly turning red as she struggled to contain her laughter. "I think..." she said, her voice strained, "we might need to stop."

Carol took a bite of her donut before eyeing her friend. "You started it." There was a smirk on her face as she chewed.

"I did," Andrea laughed, "And now I'm stopping it; come on." She pushed herself up off the ground and held out a hand for her friend.

Carol grabbed the proffered hand and pulled herself up.

"I think you were on to something earlier; let's grab some of those energy drinks."

"Sounds good," said Carol and the two of them pulled open the glass doors; they quickly began pulling out as many cans as they could carry, cradling them in their arms.

"Never know when you might need that extra energy," said Andrea, her lips twitching as she tried not to smile.

Carol kicked at her leg, "Will you stop?!" She giggled.

Daryl was squinting as he stared hard at the wrinkled map; he placed a thick finger on the paper, tracing lines, following them with his eyes. "'bout...there," he said, jabbing his finger into a small marker.

Herschel frowned, rubbing his jaw. "Thomaston?"

"Figure it's about an hour from here." Said the hunter, his eyes still focused on the map.

"What is it you're hoping to find there?" Herschel asked.

"Guns," said Patricia as she approached and stood beside the farmer.

Daryl looked up, studying her.

"There's a gun shop down there," she folded her thin arms across her chest. "Fella who ran it...one of Otis' old friends from high school."

"Think we're alright on guns," said Daryl, "I'm lookin' for ammo."

"That's your best bet." Patricia pointed to the marker, a tiny black dot.

"Think we should run this by Rick before we go making any decisions." Herschel cleared his throat and took a step back from the Buick.

"We'll see what the good sheriff has to say." Daryl snatched the map off the hood and headed for the pickup. "I got somethin'!" He called out, making Rick look up.

The deputy raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "What did you find?"

Daryl spread the map out on the hood of the truck, his hands passing over it in an attempt to smooth the creases. "There," Daryl grunted, pointing to the small town of Thomaston. "Place has a gun shop;" He ran a hand through his hair, eyeing the deputy. "Figure it's worth a look."

"How far?" Rick asked as he leaned over the map.

"Fifty, maybe sixty miles. We got the gas?"

The Deputy nodded. "Me 'n T-Dog managed to siphon a decent amount earlier this morning."

Daryl lowered his gaze, angry at himself for not having helped.

"You think it's safe?" Rick's green eyes were focused on the hunter.

"It's small, maybe a couple thousand people...I'm guessin' they all lit out, headed for Atlanta the second things went to hell."

Rick sighed as he rubbed his neck. "We do need the ammo." He rapped his knuckles on the hood. "Think we can manage a quick stop."

Daryl gave the deputy a stiff nod before turning to leave.

"Hey," Rick called out.

The hunter stopped, casting a glance over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Could you let Lori and Carl know?"

Daryl nodded and headed straight for the store. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, stifling a curse as he reached the glass doors. Daryl pulled the handle, quickly stepping aside as Andrea moved past him, her arms full with Redbull cans. He stared at the drinks, a small crease in his brow; when Andrea caught his eye she had to choke down a laugh. Daryl continued to hold the door open, his eyes on Andrea as she made her way across the parking lot. He shook his head, wondering what the hell she was smiling about. As he turned to head into the store he collided with Carol; she stumbled back several steps, a few of the cans slipping from her grasp to roll across the floor.

"God," she mumbled, "Sorry."

"Ain't nothin'." Daryl said as he rubbed the sore spot on his chest where she'd smacked into him. "Need to look where I'm goin'." He knelt to the ground, gathering the lost cans. He stared at the logo as he stood. "Redbull?"

"What?" Carol asked nervously, "Never had one?"

"Once in a while but..." He eyed the silver cans in her arms, "You 'n Andrea plannin' on drinkin' all these?"

"They're for everyone," she said, her nervousness giving way to annoyance. "Figured it might help...could use them for watch."

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he watched her; she stepped around him, her back against the door. "Ya want these?" He asked, holding up the cans he'd retrieved from the floor.

"Would you mind holding on to them? I've got about all I can carry here." She sucked her bottom lip as she pushed back against the glass.

"Need help?"

"No," she grunted as the door began to ease open, "It's alright; I've got it." She hefted the load in her arms and managed to push the door far enough for her to slip out. Daryl watched her hurrying across the parking lot; he saw her catch up to Andrea and the two were shaking their heads. Carol cast a quick glance back at the store...their eyes met and Daryl coughed, turning away.

_The hell is wrong with those two...Glenn...everyone..._

He walked past the counter, to their corner, and stopped...it was gone. She'd taken the sleeping bag...her things. Daryl frowned looking around; he saw that she'd left his belongings in a stack by the wall...the makeshift pillow, his ruck-sack...and even his bow...she'd lain it neatly on top of the pile. As he knelt to collect his things he looked to the left; there was something strange about seeing a square of white linoleum where the dark blanket had been the night before. It was as if the night and everything that happened...that nearly happened, had disappeared; she'd rolled it all up in the sleeping bag, tucking it away. He tucked the cans of redbull into his rucksack before slinging it and the bow over his shoulder. As he made his way to the back of the store in search of Lori, Carl came bounding down the aisle. "Watch it," Daryl snapped as the boy skidded to a halt in front of him.

"Sorry," said Carl, his eyes on the ground.

"Your momma around?"

"I'm here," Lori called as she hurried down the aisle, a large duffle bag hanging from a thick strap on her shoulder. "What's up?"

"Rick wanted me to tell ya we're makin' a stop in Thomaston."

"Where's that?" Carl asked as he stared up at the two adults.

"It's not far," said Lori, "An hour at the most."

"You been there?" Daryl grunted.

"A long time ago, for a funeral."

"Think we'll find a house there?" asked Carl, his eyes going from Daryl's face to his mother's.

"It's a small town, but I don't know if it's remote enough." She glanced questioningly at Daryl.

He placed one hand on his hip as he looked down at the boy. "Maybe; won't know 'till we get there. Your old man is thinkin' it should be a quick stop, in and out but if the place seems safe..." He paused, seeing the faintest glimmer of hope flash blue in Carl's eyes, "...maybe he'd consider stayin'."

Carl nodded.

"Honey; why don't you go on out and see if you can help Shane and your daddy load supplies."

"You heard her; go on," said Daryl, pointing to the door.

Carl eyed them both before dashing to the front of the store.

"Wish we all had that much energy," Lori sighed as she adjusted the strap of the duffle bag.

Daryl shook his head, "We might."

"What?"

"Carol 'n Andrea," he said as he pulled one of the silver cans from his bag, "They made sure to grab a lifetime supply of these things; ya want one?"

Lori's brows knit together and she smiled taking the can from Daryl. "Wonder what made them do that."

"Carol says they'd be good to have for watch."

Lori glanced down at her stomach, "Not sure how good these are for the baby...but I'll hang onto it for now." She dropped the can into her duffle bag.

Daryl saw her rub her back, eyes closing as if she was in pain. "Lemme get that," he said, his voice low; he motioned with his hand for her to give him the bag.

"Daryl; you don't have to, really, it's..."

"Give it here," he beckoned, "You don't need to be carryin' anything heavy."

Reluctantly, Lori dipped her shoulder, letting the strap slide down; her eyes were focused on the hunter as she handed him the bag. "Thank you," she said softly, her head tilting slightly to one side as she studied the man in front of her. He grunted, hefting the thick strap onto his own shoulder.

"Ain't nothin'." He lowered his gaze as he moved past her.

Lori watched him go, fascinated...as if she were seeing him for the first time.

Outside, carol and Andrea were dumping their drinks into the truck bed. "God," said Andrea, one hand pressed to her sweaty forehead. "Think we got enough?"

Carol stared down at the silver cans, they gleamed in the sunlight, making her squint. "Maybe." As her fingers curled over the edge of the truck bed, Carol noticed how much stuff they'd accumulated...drinks, food, clothes from the highway...blankets...the truck was filling up fast. She turned to see Glenn, Maggie and Beth shoving blankets and more food into the trunk of the Buick.

_Crowded..._

As her eyes scanned the parking lot, she saw the bike. It occurred to her that she'd just assumed she'd be riding with Daryl when the group finally left.

_I cant...not after last night... I'm sure he's missing his space..._

Rick rounded the truck, inspecting the supplies.

"Rick?" Carol took a step closer to him.

"Hm?"

"DO you mind if I ride in the truck bed?" Her blue eyes searched his face, pleading.

"Of course not; you're more than welcome...long as you don't mind bumpin' around with all this stuff." He gestured to the assortment of snacks, drinks, blankets and clothes.

"I'll be alright," she gave him a soft smile.

"Suit yourself," he said. "I'll drive and Lori can take the passenger's seat so you'll be in the back with T-Dog, Carl, Andrea and Shane."

"That's fine," Carol answered, "Thank you."

"Not a problem." Rick placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes softening for a moment. He saw Shane and T-Dog coming across the lot and went to meet them.

Andrea, having overheard the exchange, moved to Carol's side. "What was that about?"

"Nothing; I just wanted to make sure you all had room for one more in the pickup."

"Why?" Andrea asked as she leaned agasint the truck.

Carol sighed, "Because I can't just keep tagging along with him on the bike like a sidekick. It's not my place; I'm sure he misses the time to himself."

"Who says it's not your place?" Andrea arched an eyebrow. "Besides, I think Daryl has pretty much mastered the art of getting people to stay the hell away from him when he wants them to." She was staring hard at her friend, "Don't you think he'd tell you if he didn't want you on the bike?"

Carol pinched the bridge of her nose, "I don't know Andrea...It's just that...after last night...asking him to come with me...I..." She shook her head. "I feel like I need to back off. If I remember correctly, Daryl is a solitary creature, by choice. Weren't you just telling me last night about him relocating across the farm to get away from everybody? Who's to say he doesn't still want that? We were stuck together for a while but we found the rest of you and there's really no more need for me to crowd him."

Andrea was nodding slowly as she took in Carol's words. "Who says you're crowding him?"

Carol's lips parted, a concerned look on her face. She blinked, her brain struggling to form a response.

"I'm guessing the silence translates into...nobody?" She had one hand on her hip as she stared at her friend.

"That's...I..." Carol's hands were raised as she attempted to argue.

"I know what it is," said Andrea, taking a step closer. "It's you...it's something you've invented in your own mind and you need to stop."

"But..."

"No." Andrea grabbed Carol's wrists and held them gently as the two women locked eyes. "Listen; are you hearing me?"

Carol nodded.

"Daryl...is grown."

Carol frowned at the blonde woman.

"He's grown and more than capable of making up his own mind. He might be backwards but he doesn't scare easy and he certainly isn't afraid to tell any one of us to get the hell away from him." Andrea watched as Carol lowered her gaze. "Hey," she squeezed Carol's wrists just a little tighter. "You need to stop this." There was a sad smile on her face as she forced Carol to look at her. "Please; stop beating yourself up and assuming the worst. It's going to make you sick."

"Fine," Carol sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'll try."

"Good," Andrea released her. "I'm going to see if there's anything else I can bring out; think about what I said?"

Carol glared at her "Alright already, Jesus."

Andrea smiled before turning to leave.

Carol stood in the parking lot, weighing her options; she glanced from the bike, to the pickup to the Buick and scratched her head.

_A day in the car with the young couple... pass...A day pushed against, wrapped around, smelling, feeling something I can't have...pass_

She sighed.

_It has to be the truck._

She groaned as she realized that Andrea would continue to hound her for choosing the pickup over the bike.

_It doesn't matter...She doesn't get to decide for me...guilt me into riding with him..._

Carol kicked at one of the truck tires in her aggravation.

"We all good?" Asked Rick as he stood facing Shane and T-dog.

The two men nodded; Shane wiped some of the sweat from his brow. "Think we're clear man. Quick stop in Thomaston...see what we can see."

"Man, T-Dog shook his head, hands on his hips. "Ain't no quick stops anymore."

"We'll have to be careful," Rick said as he eyed each man in turn. "Quiet; in and out."

"Last time ya'll wanted to 'get in an' out," T-dog licked his lips. "Ya got penned down for a while in that pharmacy; I remember what the car looked like when ya'll got back," he pointed at Rick. "Whole hood was covered in what I'm guessin' used to be a lot of geeks."

"This'll be different." Rick's green eyes narrowed as he spoke. "We got more guns, more bodies." One hand darted out, slicing the air to make his point. "Besides; this needs to be done...all these guns ain't gonna be much use if we don't replenish our ammo."

Rick stepped closer to the two men, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "I need you to be with me on this."

The three of them were silent as they eyed each other. Impatient, Rick leaned forward and placed a hand on Shane's shoulder. "Look," his voice was low as he addressed his partner, "I don't know what we're gonna find in Thomaston." He glanced quickly over his shoulder before refocusing on Shane. "Might be someplace worth stayin'….might be overrun; there's no way for us to know but we need the ammo." Rick paused, looking from T-Dog to Shane. "Only way we get through this is by stayin' focused; I need both of you to back me up." His eyes questioned them.

T-Dog wiped sweat from his upper lip, "We got you man."

Rick nodded, his hand still on Shane's shoulder. "What about you?"

Shane studied his partner before answering. "Whatever you need man."

"Thank you." Rick squeezed his partner's shoulder.

"Yeah," said T-Dog, his hands going to his hips. "We all _real_ thankful; now let's hurry up and get the hell out of here."

"I think we can do that," said Rick as he scratched the back of his head. "Oh; you're gonna be sharin' the truck with Carol so just try and make sure everyone's got room. I know it's gonna be a little tight with all the supplies."

T-Dog frowned, his brow furrowing. "Why's Carol ridin' in the truck?"

"Figured it wasn't my place to ask; that bother you?" Rick asked.

"Naw man," T-Dog shook his head. "Just thought she'd be on the bike."

Rick chewed his lower lip, "Guess not." He watched as T-Dog stared at the bike…at the space on the seat that would be empty when they took off. "I wouldn't worry about it," said the deputy. "Sure she's got a reason." He began walking towards the store. "I'm gonna help Lori round up the last of our things; can you make sure everyone's ready to go out here?"

Shane and T-Dog exchanged glances.

"Yeah man," said Shane as he squinted against the light. "Go on."

Rick nodded and continued across the parking lot.

"You got a problem with Carol?" Shane asked as he and T-Dog stood behind the truck.

"Naw…hell; Carol's better company than most of ya'll. Just wonderin' why she wants to cram into the truck with all of us instead of ride with Daryl."

Shane rubbed his jaw and cast a sideways glance at T-Dog. "Wouldn't you?"

T-Dog couldn't help but laugh as he shook his head.

"We ready to head out?" Lori asked as her husband entered the small store.

"Yeah; just loadin' up the last few supplies. You good in here?"

Lori nodded, scanning the aisles for their son.

"Saw him out there," Rick pointed to the parking lot. "He's fine."

"I hope so," Lori sighed, her eyes on the glass door.

"What about you?" the deputy asked.

"Hm?"

"You alright?" Rick took a step closer to his wife, his hand cupping the side of her face.

"Fine," she answered softly as her hand moved over his; they stared at each other, thankful, hopeful. She broke the connection, staring down at her stomach; Rick followed her gaze.

"We're gonna be okay," Rick whispered as he gently pulled his wife into his arms. "I won't let anything happen to you, Carl…this baby." He passed his hand over her stomach. "You trust me?"

Lori looked into her husband's eyes. "Of course," She closed her eyes, kissing the crook of his neck, "I always have."

Rick held her close for a moment longer, soaking up the warmth and love from her hair…her skin. As she breathed against his neck the deputy wondered how he could ever have been lucky enough to find her, his son…his family in the midst of such terrible chaos. Despite the tragedy around them, all of the broken, ugly things this new world had brought with it….he still had them. Somehow…by the grace of a force he would never understand, they had survived.

"Come on," he spoke into her dark hair. "Let's finish up, make use of this daylight." He kissed her temple as he led her to the back of the store where a few of their things remained.

As the last of the sleeping bags were being loaded into the vehicles, the group slowly gathered in the center of the parking lot. Glenn stood beside Maggie, his arm curling protectively around her waist. Beth was between Herschel and Patricia, her eyes darting nervously around the circle. From her spot beside Andrea, Carol was doing her best not to look at Daryl. She focused instead on her scuffed sneakers and Rick's voice as he addressed them all.

"I wanna make sure we're all clear before we head out." He glanced around the circle of survivors, eyeing each of them in turn. The few hours of sleep and safety had helped, but not much. He could see the bags under their eyes, the way their shoulders slumped…Wrinkled clothes and aching limbs. "Thomaston is about sixty miles from here…before, we probably could have made the trip in an hour…but now," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Might have to make stops, move cars off the road but I'm hopin' it won't take too long."

"We spending the night there?" Beth asked, her voice weak.

"I don't know; maybe. Depends. We'll have to check it out some before we can make that kind of decision."

Beth nodded, lowering her gaze.

"Daryl's gonna ride out in front; he knows the roads better than anyone."

"Figure it's best if we try and stay off the highway for now," said the hunter, his arms folding across his chest.

"When we get to Tomaston," Rick added. "We need to be organized, have a plan."

"What do you suggest?" Herschel asked.

Rick licked his lips. "Main goal is the gun shop…if we make it there without any problems, few of us can get out, grab the ammo. I don't want any more of us leavin' the cars than is necessarry."

Herschel nodded.

"T-Dog, Daryl and I will go in. Shane's agreed to stay with the cars. It's your call if you'd like to join us." Rick eyed the farmer.

"I'll go," said Herschel.

"Daddy," Maggie grabbed her father's arm.

"It's alright," He patted her hand. "I'm not lettin' these men go in there alone. Glenn's gonna stay with ya; he'll keep you safe." The farmer caught the younger man's eye and Glenn swallowed, nodding.

The words became nonsense, unintelligible as Carol allowed herself to stare at Daryl.

_He's going again….It's always him….Always ready to dive headfirst into these situations….Why?_

Rick continued to speak but Carol didn't hear him. All she'd heard was that Daryl would be going…he would be in that building…facing whatever waited inside… Her chest tightened and she struggled to maintain her composure as she stared at the man who meant everything to her.

"When we get there," Rick cleared his throat. "No tellin' how long it might take to find what we need and get out. If there's walkers…we gotta try and deal with them quietly. We'll use our guns if we have to but we really need to learn to put these things down in a way that doesn't attract attention."

The others watched him.

"It's different usin' guns out in the sticks…less populated areas….but when we're in towns…places that might still have residents hanging around, we gotta be careful…quiet." The deputy wiped sweat from his brow. "We'll go in, check the place out and let you know what we find; If it looks safe enough to spend the night I'm not against it but I'm not tryin' to risk lives. If it's been a while and we're still inside I don't want people leavin' the cars." He stared hard at Shane and Lori. "Stay put; whatever it is, we'll figure it out. If you see anything, keep your heads down and the doors locked." He paused, studying the ground before speaking again. "If you need to," he bit his bottom lip, "You leave; get out of there…do whatever you need to do; you can always come back for us but don't stick around if it looks like trouble."

Lori sniffed and pulled Carl to her side.

"I wanna go with them," the boy whispered as he stared up at his mother.

"I'm sorry honey," she knelt down, meeting him at eye level. "You can't. Your place is with us in the car….with Carol, Andrea….Shane'll be with us and we'll all be waiting when your daddy gets out of that store. Alright?" She leaned in kissing his forehead.

Carl was silent as he adjusted his hat.

"We square?" Rick scanned the circle, searching for doubt…opposition… but all he saw were the tired faces of people resigned to their fate…their eyes held fear they were trying to hide. With silence as his answer, Rick looked to Daryl. "Think we're ready."

The hunter nodded and headed for his bike, Herschel's map protruding from his back pocket.

"Let's head out," said Rick as he clapped his hands loudly, stirring the group from their thoughts.

Slowly, the circle disbanded. Maggie squeezed Glenn's hand as they headed for the Buick. Patricia, Herschel and Beth followed after them. "You wanna drive?" Glenn asked the farmer as they stood beside the trunk.

"I'll drive; Patricia knows the area…she can ride up front with me." Herschel took the keys and walked around to the driver's side door.

"Let me know if you want to switch," said Glenn as he watched Maggie and Beth climb into the backseat.

"You ready?" Rick asked as he gripped the steering wheel and cast a sideways glance at his wife.

She looked at the cracked side mirror and could see Shane, Andrea and Carl climbing into the truck bed. "Ready as I'm going to be," she sighed.

Rick reached over, taking one of her hands in his. "It'll be alright."

"I hope so." She closed her eyes, leaning against the window pane.

Shane held out a rough hand and Carl took it. Grunting, Shane hauled the boy up and into the truck bed. "Getting' heavier boy," he laughed.

"Maybe you're just getting old," Carl cracked a smile.

Andrea climbed up after Carl, shaking her head as she surveyed the pile of supplies they would have to work around just to sit.

"Best get comfortable," Shane said, "They ain't gonna wait around while we redecorate back here."

Andrea worked to clear a space and the three of them slumped down, already sweating in the early afternoon heat.

"Who we waitin' on?" Shane asked.

"Them," Andrea pointed to T-Dog and Carol who lingered in the center of the parking lot.

Carol shifted nervously, her fingers gripping the strap of her canvas bag.

"I hear you're ridin' with us," T-Dog said as he eyed her.

"Rick said it was alright."

"Ain't no problem…just gonna be crowded." He looked past her to the already overloaded truck and its occupants.

"I don't mind," she said, her voice soft.

"Well let's go snag us some spots before they have to strap us to the hood." He nudged her shoulder playfully.

She gave him a sad smile and rolled her eyes. As she followed him across the lot, Carol paused. Daryl was standing beside his bike; she watched him lean down as he stuffed his ruck-sack into the side bag. For a moment, she wondered if she'd made the right choice with the truck. She stared at the empty seat…the one she'd sat on, with trembling legs and a weak heart as the two of them sped away from the farm….the safe place she'd occupied, with him, against him, as they left all of the death and destruction behind them. Her eyes narrowed and she saw that his bow was resting on the back of the seat…_She'd _carried the bow for him…but now…

Daryl stood up and turned, their eyes locking. Carol's lips parted but she didn't have an excuse…a reason… He looked from her to the empty seat, his eyes resting on the bow.

_What are ya doin'?_

"Don't know," he muttered quietly to himself as he reached for the bow.

Carol watched his hand as it closed around the weapon. For a moment, Daryl turned the bow in his hands, studying it with forced interest. Finally he lifted his head, looking at her. The hunter chewed his lower lip, wondering…waiting.

Carol shifted the strap on her shoulder, convinced that she'd never been more unsure of anything in her life….more torn than she was right now…standing with Daryl in front of her…the truck behind….

_Does he want me to take it?_

She was focused on the bow…on the nervous way he was holding it. when her eyes drifted back to his face Carol felt something stab at the tender place in her chest. It was almost as if something had softened in his expression…

_Were his eyes always that blue?_

Mesmerized, Carol forgot her previous concerns. He still held the bow…waiting…

_Is this his way of asking? Does he want me to…_

Her eyes were locked on his as she bit her lip and took a slow step towards him. She began to lift her hand, as if she might take the bow when something stopped her…

"Carol!" T-Dog called from the truck. "You comin'?"

She stopped short, her hand dropping to her side. Her eyes were on the ground and she heard the gravel crunching as Daryl turned away, walking back to the bike. When she looked up, he was already straddling the seat. He cast one last glance at her as he slung the bow across his back, whatever softness she'd seen in his face a moment ago was gone, replaced with the familiar look of indifference and aggravation that he usually sported. Feeling as though she'd made a mistake Carol turned to go. Daryl gripped the handle bars tightly as he watched her walk away.

In the truck bed, Andrea swatted T-Dog's arm.

"What? What'd I do?" He snapped, rubbing the sore spot.

Andrea shook her head and sighed as she pointed at Carol; T-Dog looked out at the tiny woman making her way to the truck. Carol's eyes were downcast as she hugged herself, she wanted to hide the disappointment on her face but knew that she wouldn't be able to.

T-Dog glanced from her to the angry hunter. "I screw somethin' up?" He asked Andrea as he leaned close to her, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"What do you think?" Andrea asked, frowning at him.

He rubbed at his nose, "Man..." he sighed, "I didn't know."

Andrea shook her head.

"Hey," T-Dog added, "These are two damn adults. If he wanted her to ride with him he coulda asked and she's free to do whatever the hell she wants."

Andrea ran a hand through her tangle of blonde locks, "You just don't get it."

T-Dog's brow furrowed as he stared at her, "You wanna explain it to me?"

"Not now," Andrea hissed as she stood up and moved to the tailgate.

Carol tossed her bag up and Andrea caught it. "Thanks," Carol managed as Andrea pulled her into the truck bed.

"You ready?" the blonde woman asked.

Carol nodded. "Yeah; let's get out of here."

"Think we're all good," Andrea called out.

Shane reached around slapping the driver's side door, "Good to go man; let's move."

Rick turned the keys in the ignition and the truck sputtered and groaned as it came to life. "Let Daryl know he can go ahead and pull out; we'll be right behind him," said the deputy as he looked at his wife.

Lori rolled down her window and leaned out. "Rick says you can pull out; we're ready." She called to the hunter.

Daryl turned his head to spit. "Fine," he called back, kicking the start lever. The bike roared beneath him as he spun it around and rode past the cars. He looked up at Carol when he passed the pickup and for a moment she looked back. His mouth was a hard line as he sped past to wait for them at the end of the lot. Carol wanted to say something but he was already gone…

"Hang on," Rick called from the cab. Everyone in the truck sat with their backs pressed to the sides; Shane's arm gripped the edge as Rick backed out into the lot before hurtling forward. The truck rumbled and then Herschel was backing the Buick out.

The weary passengers winced as they bobbed up and down in the truck bed, each little bump seemed to travel up their tail bones, resonating along their spines. Carol ignored the hard metal beneath her, the bodies surrounding her…all that mattered was the gas station…the small store they were leaving behind. She stared past the Buick, her eyes locking on the small store that was quickly shrinking in the distance….a place where'd they'd been together….close…as close as they'd ever been. She knew that the gas station held nothing for them but something in her didn't want to leave the place where Daryl had shared her sleeping bag…the place where she'd suffered quietly, swallowed up by dark heat and all the things she wanted to do and say… They were leaving…going somewhere new and Carol didn't know what they would find in Thomaston…if there would be any of the quiet warmth she and Daryl had shared in secret…in their corner. She sucked in a sharp breath as she realized that there may not be a corner in Thomaston…

_There might never be another corner…_

She tore her eyes from the small building and leaned her head on Andrea's shoulder.

_Why?_

Sad thoughts were slowly crowding her skull like so many unwelcome visitors.

_Why didn't I go with him?_

The question loomed large in her mind, towering over all others, as the small caravan left the gas station behind them.

Daryl squinted as he stared up at the trees. He'd led them to a forgotten stretch of road; it wound dizzyingly through the woods and was dappled in afternoon light that came spilling through the leafy, green canopy above. Oaks, maples and dogwoods lined either side of the road, their branches arching overhead like arms reaching out for each other. Occasionally birds would flee from their hiding places, startled by the sound of the cars. Daryl scanned the trees, searching for signs of movement as he rode past. In the distance, he could see a strange shape…something dark, crouching at the tree line. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the truck, making sure to catch Rick's eyes. When he turned back around he could see the figure….a walker. The thing was on the ground, gnawing on something.

Lori followed her husband's gaze, her breath catching when she spotted the walker up ahead.

"Don't worry," Rick said, patting her leg. "Looks like it's just the one; we're just gonna keep movin'."

The creature looked up as it heard the bike approaching. A chunk of dripping, red flesh was caught in its teeth. It growled as Daryl rode past and the hunter noticed what looked to be half of a possum on the grass. The walker reached out, making a lazy attempt to grab Daryl but the bike sped out of reach, followed by the cars.

Carl watched as the walker continued to feed on its kill, the grisly scene grew smaller as the truck rambled down the country road.

"Come here," Carol beckoned him to her. The boy obeyed, stony-faced, as he slumped down beside her. "No sense in looking at things like that," she said softly, taking the hat from his head.

"Hey," he looked up at her, his brows knitting together.

"I'm just trying to get a look at you," she said, giving him a small smile. "Feel like you're always hiding under that hat."

"It's just big," he allowed a smile to spread across his face, softening his expression…making him look like the boy Carol had first met that night outside the city.

"You'll grow into it." She set the Stetson in his lap and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"That walker," said Carl as he stared at Carol. "Think it was alone? What if there's more out here?"

She rubbed his forehead with her thumb. "Don't worry about that, we're just passing through. Try and think about something else; look," she said pointing to a large tree with white blossoms.

Carl followed her gaze and saw the tree up ahead. "Yeah?"

"You know what kind of tree that is?"

Carl shook his head.

"It's a dogwood."

The boy nodded, his eyes fixed on the white blossoms as the truck sped past.

"What about that one?" Carol pointed down to small sapling at the edge of the road.

"It's not big enough for me to tell," he frowned.

"Come on," Carol rubbed his shoulder. "Look at the leaves, the shape…I bet you can tell."

Carl smiled at her before looking back at the sapling.

"Did you get a good look?" Carol asked as the truck rounded a blind turn.

"Think so."

"Well?"

Carl was silent for a moment as he considered his answer. "Sassafras?"

"I knew you'd get it," Carol smiled as she picked up the hat and placed it back on his head. "Think you've earned it back," she said as she adjusted the Stetson for him.

As Carl stared up at her with his cobalt eyes Carol was happy…happy that she could distract him, if only for a moment…happy that despite everything they'd been through in the last twenty-four hours….in the last month…that he could still stop and see beautiful things if he tried. She sighed pulling him into an awkward hug and kissing his cheek.

"Quit!" Carl laughed, color spreading across his face as he squirmed out of her grasp.

"Fine," she said, releasing him. "Why don't you pick one? See if I can guess."

Carl shrugged, "You probably know them all."

"Not all of them; go on, try me."

Carl smiled as he gripped the edge of the truck and scanned the trees.

Carol felt her chest tighten as she watched him. If things had gone differently…Sophia would be here, beside him…she would be the one guessing trees.

_But you're not here._

She shook off the sadness before it could claim her and focused instead on the boy in the sheriff's hat; the boy who needed a distraction as much as she did.

_We could all use some distractions right about now._

Crawling on her hands and knees, Carol made her way to the side of the truck and leaned on the edge beside Carl, their elbows touching.

There was a sad smile on Andrea's face as she watched the exchange. She watched Carol laugh as Carl pointed to something in the distance. The two of them kneeling side by side. The blonde woman folded her arms across her chest and wondered what it was that made Carol doubt herself.

_You've got nothing to feel guilty about. _

She continued to watch the pair and wished that Carol could see what the rest of them saw in her…a kind, caring woman…always putting herself last. T-Dog noticed that Andrea was staring; he leaned in close, whispering to her, "He should have asked her ass to ride with him."

Andrea sighed, nodding. "Yes; he really should have.

The trees began to thin as the caravan neared the end of the winding road. The bike sputtered as Daryl pulled over; the truck and the Buick followed suit. Rick leaned out of the window, "We close?"

Daryl looked back at the deputy. "Few more miles. Should start seein' signs soon."

"You know what this place is called?" Rick asked.

"Mike's." The hunter grunted in response. "Keep an eye open for it."

Rick nodded. He saw Daryl swing his leg over the bike and head for the nearest tree. "Pit stop?" The deputy called after him.

"Nature calls," answered the hunter as he continued walking.

Rick turned to face his wife, "You have to go? I'll keep watch."

"I'll be alright; I can wait."

"Sure?" He asked.

"Yeah; I'm fine. We're nearly there."

T-Dog craned his neck and saw Daryl heading for the trees. He looked at the others in the truck bed, "I'll be back, gotta go." As he hopped over the side of the truck he glanced up at his fellow passengers. "Tellin' me ain't none of ya'll gotta go?"

"We're fine; thanks," Andrea called down to him.

"Suit yourselves." He made his way to a large oak.

Daryl sighed, one hand pressed to the tree he'd found. As he emptied his bladder, his thoughts went to the gas station…to how she'd chosen the truck.

_Ain't no choice…what made ya think she'd be ridin' with you?_

"Don't know," he muttered. The steady stream of urine was slowing and he took a step back as it stopped completely. Daryl quickly zipped his fly and headed back to the road. On his way to the bike he passed T-Dog.

"Man," T-Dog said, "You believe none of them gotta go?"

Daryl smirked, shaking his head. "Girl's ain't much for pissin' in the woods."

T-Dog laughed, "Guess not; hey, you really think we gonna find ammo in this place?"

Daryl shrugged. "Ain't like we got a lot of options."

T-Dog nodded before continuing towards the trees.

When the group finally reached Thomaston, Rick slowed to a crawl in an attempt to enter the town without disturbing any lingering residents. Daryl hung back a bit and rode alongside the pickup while the Buick continued to creep up behind them.

"You recognize any of this?" Rick asked Lori.

"Not yet; but I will. Hard to see it like this…" she sighed.

Rick's mouth was a hard line as he looked up and down the narrow street. Cars sat in driveways…untouched…while others bore signs of struggle. Up ahead, a blue SUV had collided with a street lamp, it's hood warped by the pole. When he narrowed his eyes, the deputy could make out a dark shape behind the wheel and a stain on the windshield…dry blood. The glass had cracked, forming a spider web pattern around the stain… Rick picked up the speed, moving past the wreck…not wanting to see the forgotten driver. Luggage was strewn in the street; Daryl swerved on his bike to avoid it. It looked to be clothes mostly...jackets, T-shirts…lost shoes without matches. Daryl frowned as he looked down at a pale blue shirt with small hearts printed on it; he shook his head, chasing the image from his mind.

As they drove further into town they noticed doors to homes had been left open, as if the residents had fled quickly. Lori averted her eyes as they crawled past a small house with an overgrown lawn…a body, or what remained of one, lay face down in the grass and weeds…just beyond the doorstep. One thin arm was extended as if the corpse had attempted to crawl to safety. Below its waist were two ruined stumps…the legs had been gnawed away…

In the back of the pickup, the riders were lying low, keeping their heads down. Carol could smell death on the air and pulled Carl close to her. "Stay down," she whispered. The Stetson slipped from his head as she held him against her, "Don't look." Carl was silent as he nestled into her side. She kept her arms around him tight, as if she were afraid that something might snatch him from her…that some evil would find its way up and over the side of the truck…take him… "It's alright," she soothed, speaking softly into his hair, "Just don't look; we'll be there soon."

Daryl signaled to Rick; they needed to take a turn. When the bike rounded the nearest corner, the hunter stopped, raising an arm to shield his face. A group of buzzards disbanded, their dark wings beating rapidly as they took to the air, flying past the invading caravan. The birds' harsh, rasping calls echoed down the empty street as they circled overhead. Daryl looked up, studying them before inching forward. As he continued down the street, he noticed what it was that had drawn the hungry vultures. Up ahead, in the gutter, lay a small carcass. Daryl let the engine die as he slowed to a stop and swung his leg over the bike. He glanced left, then right, and made his way to the gutter. The hunter's eyes narrowed as he dropped to a crouch, mere inches from the body.

_Dog…some stray. Skinny thing_.

It's belly was torn open, entrails spilling out onto the asphalt, slick…coiled. Daryl's lips parted as he stared hard at the large pool of blood beneath the dead animal…it was a vivid red; he could see his own face reflected in the shining surface.

_Fresh… Shit._

He stood and quickly scanned the street.

_Nothin'…._

He looked over his shoulder and saw Rick staring at him through the grimy windshield of the truck. Stifling a curse, Daryl walked to the truck, his hands on his hips. Rick rolled down the window.

"Somethin' wrong?"

Daryl glanced back at the lonely carcass before meeting the deputy's gaze. "Dead dog," he indicated the gutter with his thumb. "Whatever killed it…" he paused, licking his lips, "It ain't far."

Rick frowned, looking past the hunter at the buildings lining the street…as if something were going to appear..stumble into the road at any moment. "Let's keep movin'," said the deputy, "Maybe pick up the pace; I don't want to stick around unless we have to."

Daryl nodded, "Gun shop ain't much farther. Couple minutes maybe."

"Alright; I think we can manage that."

The hunter turned, heading back to his bike.

Rick rolled up his window, "Daryl says there's walkers around; just keep your eyes open."

Lori stared at her husband with wide eyes. "Maybe we should leave, turn back…"

"We're nearly there…this is our best chance to find ammo, maybe some more weapons…I'm trying to get us through this as quickly as possible but we gotta keep our nerve…stay calm. We've got the vehicles….we can get out if we need to." Rick's voice was firm, his eyes on the windshield as he addressed his wife.

"Alright," Lori sighed. She closed her eyes and pushed the dark hair back from her forehead, one hand drifting unconsciously to her stomach…hovering protectively.

Rick watched as the bike sped up. "We'll get there," he mumbled to himself, "We'll get there…."

As the caravan drove away, a sudden movement caught Herschel's eye. He glanced at the side-mirror and saw the large, black birds descending…quickly, they congregated around their find, pale neck's craning…sharp beaks thrusting into the red flesh. The farmer tore his eyes from the grim spectacle and focused on the pickup…on the passengers who sat with bowed heads, and hard faces…hiding from whatever darkness was lurking in the empty town.

After two more desolate streets, the group was finally pulling into a small parking lot. Daryl pulled his bike up to the doors of a squat, gray building; the sign above was a yellowed-white with black, stenciled lettering…Mike's Arms and Ammunition. As he dismounted, the hunter looked over his shoulder and saw the vehicles creep slowly, quietly into the lot. He dipped his shoulder, allowing the strap to slide so he could catch his bow; he held it as he stood beside the bike, waiting for the others.

Shane looked at T-Dog, "Make sure Glenn gives ya a gun outta that bag."

T-Dog nodded before gripping the side of the truck and hopping down with a grunt. Andrea, Carol and Carl watched as he made his way to the Buick.

"Place seems pretty quiet," said Andrea as she scanned the parking lot.

"Yeah," Carol sighed, wishing that they didn't have to be here. "Hey," she nudged Carl in his ribs.

The boy stared at her.

"You're daddy's getting out; why don't you take his spot in the cab…you can keep your momma company."

Carl was silent as he watched her face; he could see the concern in her eyes, the way she bit her lower lip…like she was nervous. Without answering, he jumped over the side and reached out for the driver's side door; his father stopped him. Rick knelt in front of his son, one hand going to the boy's shoulder. "I need you and Shane to keep an eye on your mom…watch out for Andrea and Carol….think you can do that for me?"

Carl stared at the ground, one boot kicking absently at the asphalt.

"Carl?"

The boy looked up, his face pale….eyes blue, doubtful.

"I need you to do this for me; please." His grip tightened on Carl's shoulder.

"Okay." Carl's voice was small as he answered.

"We'll be out as fast as we can but if we run into any problems…"

Carl turned away but Rick held him, forcing him to stay.

"If we run into trouble…" the deputy repeated, his green eyes softening as he watched his son. "Make sure that nobody leaves the cars. You leave if things get bad; tell Shane, Glenn, whoever you need to tell but go…make sure you and your mother get out of this place and you can come back for us."

The Stetson slipped lower on the boy's brow, casting a shadow across his eyes. "Okay."

Rick nodded, releasing his son. Carl climbed quickly into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut behind him, not wanting to look at his father.

"Herschel, you don't have to go in there," Patricia said as the farmer pushed his door open and stepped out of the Buick.

"I do; I can't let them face this alone and I need Glenn here to look after you all. I'll be alright; just stay put for now." He poked his head back in and glanced at his daughters in the backseat. "You'll be fine; Glenn won't let anything happen to you."

Beth wiped away a tear and nodded.

"Alright then; just stay quiet and we'll be out as soon as we can." He eased the door shut and walked around to the trunk to find a gun. When the trunk popped open, Rick and T-Dog were at his side.

"You sure you wanna do this?" The deputy eyed Herschel.

"I'm sure," Herschel reached in, grabbing his shotgun.

"Man," T-Dog frowned as he rubbed the back of his head. "Can we quit talkin' about it and go? I ain't tryin' to hang around until the geeks figure out we're here. This whole place is givin' me the creeps."

Rick looked from T-Dog to Herschel, "Ready?"

"Ready as I'm likely to be," said the farmer as he shouldered his shotgun.

"Let's go." Rick lead them towards the building, to the doors where Daryl was waiting. As they walked across the small lot, the three men cast quick glances at the vehicles…nervous passengers with pale faces stared back at them.

Carol let a heavy sigh pass her lips as she leaned back against the cab; her eyes were closed…hands moving up, over her face, into her hair.

"Hey," Andrea placed a hand on Carol's knee.

"What?" Carol didn't open her eyes; she began to claw gently at her scalp, short hair sticking up between her fingers.

"It's going to be alright; you need to relax…breathe."

"Right."

"Are you listening?" Andrea tightened her grip on Carol's knee.

"I'm doing everything in my power to forget where we are…what we're doing…please just stop." There was an edge to Carol's voice as she tried to mask her fear.

Andrea withdrew her hand.

Carol's head was beginning to pound as she tugged her short locks; she bit down hard on her lower lip, wishing more than anything that they were back at the gas station…the farm…the quarry…anywhere but here and now.

_It'll be alright….they're armed…they've done this before…a dozen times. In and out…It's fine…they're fine…It's Rick and T-Dog and Herschel and Daryl…they're strong….they won't let anything happen…they won't…they'll find the ammo and they'll come back…they always come back….they will…it's fine….they're fine…He's coming back._

She was trying desperately to convince herself but the words were meaningless as they flew through her mind…empty. Her eyes eased open and she saw the bike…the worn leather on the seat…the place where he should be…

Daryl raised his hand, counting off with his fingers…

_One, two, three…_

He pulled the door open, wincing as the rusted hinges squeaked. He leaned back against the door, holding it open as the others moved past him. With their weapons in hand, the four men stepped inside the dark store. Bits of broken glass crunched beneath their feet as they advanced. "Stay together," Rick whispered harshly, his eyes darting around the store, adjusting to the gloom.

"Really think we gonna find anything worth takin'?" T-Dog asked as he looked around.

"Won't know till we look," Daryl answered, his voice hushed.

Herschel tightened his grip on his shotgun as they made their way to the service counter. Rick stared hard at the empty wall where the guns should have been stacked, neatly, barrels up.

"Looks like we weren't the first ones here," Herschel sighed.

"Man…How'd I know this was gonna be a dead end?" T-Dog groaned.

"Ya'll quit bitchin'," Daryl hissed. "Folks came in, grabbed what they saw," he gestured to the empty wall behind the counter. "But places like this…they got stock rooms…I'm thinkin' we'll have better luck there."

"He's right," said Rick. "I'm willing to bet that's where the ammo is."

Lori's eyes were trained on the small building. She watched the door, waiting…hoping that any second Rick and the others would walk out. A crease was forming in her brow as she whispered to herself…

"Come on….come on baby…hurry…please…" She looked left then right, up and down the street, searching for signs of movement. Minutes ticked by and each second seemed slower than the last. A drop of sweat slid down Lori's neck as she waited. "Please…" she whispered, her hands clasping in front of her lips. "_Please_…"

Carol was suffocating. Their supplies were piled in front of her, around her…the sun was beating down and she started to feel lightheaded. The rational part of her knew that the men hadn't been inside very long but it just didn't feel that way. She stretched her legs, pushing against a rolled sleeping bag.

_I need to move…I can't sit here…not while they're in there…_

Frowning, Carol stood and swung one leg over the side of the truck. Andrea and Shane looked at her. "What are you doing?" The blonde woman asked.

"I just need to stretch…walk around for a minute." She grunted as she dropped to the asphalt, her worn sneakers absorbing the impact.

"Stick close to the truck," Shane called after her.

Carol turned, nodding. She hugged herself as she paced; every few seconds her eyes went to the gray building.

_What's keeping you?_

"Locked," Daryl grunted as his hand closed around the knob on the stock-room door. The men were silent, eyeing each other.

"Anybody know how to pick locks?" Rick asked.

"Too dark," said Daryl as he wiped sweat from his upper lip. "And ain't like we got the time."

"Suggestion?" Herschel asked.

Daryl's eye narrowed as he studied the farmer. "Yeah; one." The hunter ground his teeth together as he slammed his shoulder into the door.

"Jesus!" T-Dog hissed.

"You're welcome to jump in any time," Daryl grunted, pounding against the door a second time. "Shit…" He was rubbing the aching, red mark on his shoulder when he took a step back. "Go on," he looked at the others and gestured to the door.

T-Dog frowned, shaking his head. He took a deep breath and bit his lip as he slammed his own shoulder against the door, making it creak. "God…Dammitt!"

"Lock's givin'," said Daryl as he continued to rub his arm.

"Let me try something," Rick said as he motioned for the others to stand aside. With a grimace, the deputy raised his leg, kicking the door hard….his heel colliding with the metal, causing a clang to reverberate throughout the store. With a snap, the door gave way and the men were greeted with a terrible odor. Rick stumbled back, catching his breath, pistol in hand.

There was a rasping sound and shuffling in the darkness and a strange shape emerged in the doorway. A large walker stepped clumsily out of the stock room….rotten, tattered overalls clinging to its frame. Sickly, yellow eyes rolled in its head as it studied the visitors. The men backed away quickly, giving the creature a wide berth.

"Looks like ol' Mike never made it out," said Daryl as he loaded his bow.

The walker stumbled forward, arms swinging wildly as it tried to grab living flesh. A few strands of dark hair clung to its scalp but skin had begun to fall away in places, leaving ugly, gaping wounds in its face, on its neck…It snarled, spittle flying from its pale lips. As Daryl took aim, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I'll do it," said Herschel as he stepped in front of the hunter.

"Herschel; don't!" Rick yelled but the farmer was already moving.

Herschel grunted as he gripped his shotgun tightly by the barrel and shoved the stock hard into the creature's throat. Rotten flesh gave way beneath the force of Herschel's blow and the walker's head lolled to one side as it continued to gnash its teeth. The farmer yelled as he slammed the stock back into the horrible gash across the walker's neck, severing the muscle and bone that connected its head to its body. The men all backed away as the disgusting head rolled from the creature's shoulders and landed with a smack on the floor. The lifeless body slumped to the ground while the head continued to snarl and growl at the survivors. Herschel was breathing hard as he raised the gun and brought it crashing down into the walker's forehead. The pale lips stopped moving and black blood oozed from the severed head. Herschel jerked his gun free, shaking shining bits of gore from the stock. "I need…" said the farmer as he struggled to catch his breath, "to learn how to do this."

"I'd say ya got the hang of it." Daryl smirked, clapping Herschel on the back.

"Let's hope that's the only one," said Rick as he stepped around the body. "We need to check this room and get out."

The others were silent as they followed him into the dark room.

"Need a light," Rick called.

Daryl stepped into the room, the small light from his bow piercing the gloom.

"That'll have to do," said the deputy, his eyes scanning the shelves.

T-Dog's hand was on the door frame when something caught his eye. He squinted, looking back at the front of the store. "What?" he spoke softly, almost to himself. There was movement outside the doors. "Oh shit…"

"What's that?" Rick called from inside the stock room. "You see somethin'?"

"The doors…" T-Dog said, licking his lips. "There's somethin' out there…"

"They weren't locked," Herschel added, his brows knitting together. "The doors…we didn't lock them when we came in…."

The men froze as they exchanged glances.

Lori was jabbing her finger into the windshield, her eyes wide with panic and fear. "Oh my god…" she covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh god….where'd they come from?" She watched in horror as walkers began making their way to the gray building. Carl followed his mother's gaze, his face pale.

Shane cursed, hauling himself over the side of the truck. With his rifle in hand he began walking in the direction of the approaching walker. His jaw was set hard as he focused on his target but as he raised his weapon, another walker rounded the corner…and another…and another….soon it was a group of them, groaning, shuffling. Shane's lips parted and he lowered his gun. "Jesus…" He turned, running back to the truck; he pounded on the window and Carl rolled it down. "We gotta move. NOW."

"But…they're inside…how will they.." Carl's eyes were darting wildly from Shane to the walkers to the small building.

Shane raised a hand, silencing the boy. "Look, we ain't got time for a discussion right now, we gotta move; that's what your daddy said. We're gonna go, see if we can lure that group away…that's our best bet right now." His words were tumbling out one after the other and he licked his lips, waiting for Carl to speak.

The boy gave a shaky nod and opened the door for Shane. In the Buick, Patricia was rolling down her window. "What do we do?!" she cried out, tears already welling in her eyes.

Shane turned to face her, "We move! Lead those things away from the store…you 'n Lori know the area; ya'll can lead the way." He didn't wait for a response as he climbed into the cab pushed Carl into Lori's seat, mother and son crammed together, clinging to each other. Shane slammed the door shut, his hands going to the steering wheel, gripping it tight.

Patricia crawled into the driver's seat and cast a nervous glance back at Glenn and the girls. "We've gotta go…we'll come back…come back for them but right now we gotta lead the walkers away…there's too many."

Maggie and Beth were frowning as tears slid down their cheeks. "We can't leave him!" Beth cried; the sound was desperate, broken. "We can't leave daddy!"

Patricia reached out, taking the young girl's hand. "Sweetheart, we have to. We'll come back…but the best way we can help is to get those things away from that store."

Beth choked on another sob and Patricia released her hand. "Hang on," she turned the keys in the ignition and the Buick roared to life.

Andrea was panicking as she gripped the side of the truck. She scanned the lot, searching for Carol. "Carol!?" She screamed, sweat forming at her temples, "Carol!"

But Carol couldn't hear her. She stood at the opposite end of the lot, watching, horrified and powerless as a large group of walkers made their way to the gray building. The sound of revving engines pulled her from her trance and she saw that Andrea was leaning over the side of the truck, waving at her. Carol's heart stopped and her lips parted as she realized what was happening…

_They're leaving…._

Her brows knit together as she watched the Buick tear across the lot, tires screeching…smoking…

_No…we can't…. we can't leave them…_

Her mind was spinning as she watched the Buick stop just beyond the parking lot as Patricia waited for the others. Shane leaned out of his window and screamed at Andrea, "What the hell is she doin'?! Her ass needs to be in this truck NOW!"

Tears were welling in Andrea's eyes and her mouth was open as she stared at him; she shook her head, hands raised at her sides. "I don't know…I…" the words were catching in her throat and the groans from the walkers were getting louder. "Carol!" She cried, her voice cracking with grief and desperation.

Carol blinked, as if hearing Andrea for the first time.

_I can't….._

She swallowed hard as she studied the approaching walkers when she turned, she felt her heart drop through her like a stone. Two more walkers, stragglers from the main group, had found the back door and were pushing it open, stumbling, disappearing inside.

_They won't see them coming…._

The larger group had reached the main doors, they were clawing, pulling, falling over one another as they struggled to get in.

_They'll be focused on the front….they won't see…._

In that moment, with the sun glaring down at her…Andrea's broken screams echoing in her head….Carol knew her decision had been made. She looked down at her belt, at the knife Daryl had given her….taking a deep breath, Carol let her hand rest on it, feeling the cool metal against her skin…each beat of her heart was pounding in her ears…the sound heavy…deafening…a sledge hammer being brought down concrete…shattering the half-formed thoughts in her skull…When she lifted her head, Carol's blue eyes were hard, her lips forming a tight line. She pulled the small knife from her belt and flicked her wrist the way Daryl had shown her. The blade snapped out, shining, blinding her as it reflected hot, silver light. Gripping the handle tightly in her sweaty palm, Carol looked at the pickup, her eyes finding Andrea's.

In the truck bed, Andrea's face grew pale. Her lower lip trembled as she realized what Carol was about to do. "No!" She screamed, her throat growing raw with the effort. "Carol….please! Don't!" Hot tears were slipping from the corners of her eyes as she watched Carol turn and run for the gray building.

Shane leaned out of his window again, sweat breaking out in beads on his forehead. "CAROL! Come back! We gotta go!"

But she didn't hear them, or if she did, she didn't care. Carol's muscles were screaming in revolt as she took off running, pushing herself to go faster.

_I can't leave him…_

Her lungs were burning as she tore across the parking lot; she focused on the building…not wanting to look back…to see her friends…hear them calling for her… Her mind was made up; she knew what she was doing and she couldn't stop….she couldn't slow down…not now…

"Get the door!" Rick yelled. "Don't let them in!" He and T-Dog were running towards the front of the store, their hands flying out, gripping the door handles…holding them closed. They could hear moaning outside the glass, and the terrible shrieking of long fingernails sliding down the panes.

"The hell did these things come from?" T-Dog grunted as he struggled to maintain his grip on the handle.

"Don't know," Rick hissed through clenched teeth, "But it definitely feels like more than a few of 'em out there." He grimaced as the walkers pushed against the doors, their weight of their bodies causing Rick and T-Dog to inch back, the heels of their shoes sliding, scraping on the floor.

Daryl and Herschel hurried to the front of the store, their eyes narrowing as they saw the horde of walkers, silhouetted beyond the glass…thin arms raised as the creatures clawed to gain entry. "What should we do?" Herschel asked, his eyes darting from Rick to T-Dog.

"Can't hold these doors forever," T-Dog managed as his breathing grew strained.

Rick's lips parted, his chin lifting slowly as he met Herschel's gaze…."The cars…." he whispered hoarsely.

"What?" Daryl took a step closer, studying the deputy.

"They have to leave," Rick said, swallowing hard. "They have to go…" No sooner had the words left the deputy's mouth than the four men paused…a familiar sound reaching their ears…through the groans, and snarls…the painful scraping of broken nails on the doors…they could hear engines revving…tires screeching…

"They've gone," Herschel whispered, at once stunned and relieved.

Realizing that Carl and Lori were safe…at least for the moment, Rick allowed himself to breathe…he blinked slowly, taking in his surroundings…the three men with him…the dirty floor strewn with shattered glass…for an instant, his grip on the handle loosened and the walkers seized the opportunity. Relentless, the horde pushed, pale bodies straining against each other to reach whatever prey was waiting just inside the doors. Maddened by the smell of living flesh, the walkers broke through…piling in…one after another. Cursing, Rick stumbled back, hiding behind the door, shielding himself as the monsters spilled in.

Daryl stood his ground, loading his bow and firing as the nearest walker reached out for him. He sent an arrow flying past Herschel to strike the creature smack between its two pale eyes. "What're ya'll waitin' for?" He yelled at Herschel and T-Dog as he took several steps back and loaded another arrow.

Herschel frowned, swinging his shotgun as hard as he could. He caught a large walker in the mouth and sent gray, rotting teeth flying…they fell to the floor, rolling like dice. T-Dog pulled a knife from his belt and thrust it deep into the temple of another walker; the creature's eye's rolled back in its head as it collapsed, nearly pulling T-Dog down with it but he grunted, jerking his weapon free.

"There's too….many," Rick yelled as he struggled to fend off a walker that had backed him into a corner. He swore, cracking the thing square in the face…breaking its nose with the butt of his pistol.

"I noticed," Daryl managed to call out as he kicked another walker in the chest, sending it stumbling backwards into the horde.

"Go…" Rick grunted, bringing the butt of the pistol down hard on the creature's soft forehead. The bone gave way, splitting, cracking under the impact. Dark blood gushed from the fissure and the ruined body slumped to the ground at Rick's feet. "Go and find the back door…see if it's clear…if we can get out that way…hurry…we'll keep 'em busy here." The deputy looked over at the hunter and the two locked eyes for an instant.

Daryl nodded before turning on his heel and dashing to the back of the store. "Don't worry," T-Dog called after him as he shoved another walker violently away from himself. "We got this." The creature's teeth gnashed wildly, missing his arm by mere inches.

The hunter nearly tripped in his haste to reach the exit; he reached out, bracing himself with one strong hand, flat against the wall. Catching his breath, Daryl continued running through the gloom…a curse leapt from his tongue and he skidded to a halt as he saw shadows begin to move down the hallway leading to the back door. "Fuckin' Christ!" He yelled as he raised his bow and fired almost blindly into the dark. He heard a grunt as his arrow found it's mark and then a sharp scream…a human scream…

_What in the hell…_

He squinted as daylight sliced through the gloom, stinging his eyes. The back door was cracked open and there were figures moving…outlined by the white, hot light. "Fuck!" Daryl roared as he hurtled forward, his finger hovering over the trigger on his bow. Blinded, disoriented, Daryl slid, his boots skidding across the dust and broken glass…he raised his bow to shield himself as two gray arms reached out for him…there was an awful stench of corruption as the creature opened its jaws…crooked teeth gleaming in the light…Daryl snarled, the heel of his boot slamming into the ground as he lunged forward but he froze when the walker's right eye burst suddenly from its socket…the shining orb flew forward before dropping, suspended by a red chord…a strained bundle of nerves that hung from the creature's ravaged socket. Daryl's lips parted and his eyes narrowed, pupils shrinking against the invading light from the cracked door. His brows knit together as he noticed the tip of a blade gleaming, protruding from where the walker's eye should have been. Before the shaken hunter could speak, the tip of the knife was disappearing, being withdrawn from the creature's skull. He heard a soft grunt as the blade was wrenched free and the lifeless corpse sank to the ground. Daryl lowered his gaze, watching, mesmerized as blood poured from the walker's wound and pooled around his boots. When he looked up, he found himself face to face with Carol. Their eyes locked and instantly the two were frozen. Carol was covered in a sheen of sweat…the small knife shaking in her hands…Her chest was heaving as she fought for every breath. He could see where flecks of blood had spattered on her neck, her chest, from when she wrenched the weapon free…The two stared at each other..stunned.

"Carol?" He took a step closer to her, careful to avoid the corpse. "What are…." He didn't have time to finish his sentence. Behind her, the door was flung open as another walker found its way inside. For a moment, the hall was bathed in light and Daryl grabbed Carol's wrist, dragging her after him. "C'mon!" He yelled back at her. Together they ran down the hall, stopping suddenly when Daryl passed the stock-room door. Without another word, Daryl pulled her inside and slammed the door behind them. Carol couldn't think…couldn't speak as Daryl swung her after him, hurling them both into the small room where they were cloaked in darkness. He grunted, slamming his back against the door and hoping with every fiber of his being that their weight was enough to keep the walker from breaking in. Carol was shaking violently, trembling as she stood in the small room. Daryl heard a clang as she dropped the knife. She sniffed, trying to stifle her sobs. "Quit!" Daryl snapped reaching out, he caught hold of her hand and pulled her roughly to him. Carol whimpered as she smacked into his chest.

Her back was pressed against him and he held her there, one rough hand splaying across her stomach while the other was clamped over her mouth. He leaned hard into the door, bruising the already aching ridges in his spine. Carol was shaking violently, tears slipping warm from her eyes. She brought her small hands up to claw at his…to pry him away from her mouth but he held firm, feeling her frantic breaths, hot on his palm. Daryl placed his lips to her ear, whispering hoarsely, "Ya need to be quiet…" The words were warm on Carol's skin…in her hair…"If ya keep makin' noise…" she could feel his chapped lip brush her earlobe. "Thing's gonna hear ya…try and get in. Now quiet…and don't move."

Carol managed a weak nod as she felt his hand pressing on her stomach, keeping her flush against him. There, in the dark…Carol swore her heartbeat was the loudest thing in the room. She felt his body moving as he breathed, his stomach pressed to her back, sweat mingling. Slowly, she lowered her hands, letting them rest over his as he continued to hold her. Her eyes were closed as she inhaled the scent from his fingers which were still covered her mouth. Despite her fear…the shaking…the fresh spots of blood on their clothing…Carol couldn't help but groan at the feeling of their bodies being so close. Her ass was pressed to his groin and she leaned back, letting the back of her head rest against his collar bone. "Quit movin'…" He growled into the crook of her neck. Carol felt herself going weak as his breath hit her skin. He tightened his grip on her, soft lips pliant beneath his palm…the muscles in her stomach vibrating with nervous energy. His eyes narrowed and he lingered for a moment in the crook of her neck…he could smell the fear rolling off of her, sharp, metallic….he felt her short hair brushing his collar bone and grunted. Daryl's breathing was growing ragged again as he realized how close they were….how much of her was touching him.

_Fuck…_

He was tensing as his hand slowly began to move…sliding down, over her stomach. Carol's eyes snapped open as she felt him move but she fought the urge to stop him…to resist…she swallowed hard, not wanting to disturb him…to stop whatever this was… The scruff on his chin was tickling the crook of her neck and she wanted to cry out…move…anything…but she couldn't…all she could do was carefully lift her hands as his dipped lower, searing a trail down her stomach. His touch was burning her, killing her…but she was trapped. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingertips inched just below the waistband of her shorts. Blood was roaring in her ears and she was panting, her chest rising and falling quickly now…She felt his lips at her ear again… "Car…." as her name was forming on his tongue something pounded hard against the door making her jerk in his grasp. Stifling a curse, Daryl tightened his grip on her and leaned harder into the door, holding it closed. His fingertips were digging into the soft flesh below her belly button and all Carol could do was tremble, her eyes slammed shut as whatever waited outside the door began to claw and scrape…


End file.
